False Idol
by De Ore Leonis
Summary: A story exploring the relationship that Valentine and Luke had during their younger years. This fills the gaps in Luke's synopsis of his school years where Valentine 'rescued' him. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for later chapters, this is probably a **K+**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 1_

"**I worshiped him. I thought the sun rose and set on Valentine Morgenstern." (Lucian, **_**City of Bones**_**, 358)**

(-)

"Lucian, are you asleep?"

Luke shot up in bed. Even with his shameful lack of Shadowhunter aptitude he had always had exceptional instincts.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then," a quiet voice chuckled.

Luke's eyes flicked over to the figure leaning casually against his door frame. Even in the poor light there was no mistaking that form. Those broad shoulders and effortless grace exemplified everything a Shadowhunter should be. Everything he wasn't.

"Valentine? You know my name?"

That quite chuckle came again and Luke flushed at the redundancy of his question.

"Yes, Lucian. I know a great deal about you in fact. How hard you work, how you seem to struggle and the vast potential that dwells inside you."

This time it was Luke's turn to laugh. "'Vast potential'? I thought you were pretty smart, Valentine. The Angel clearly made a mistake with me," he snorted bitterly.

"You're right: I am smart and I am telling you that you have vast potential. Do you doubt me?"

Luke turned his face away to hide the angry flush. Even in this low light he didn't want to face Valentine like this. He tensed when he felt the other youth walking towards his bed. No, walking wasn't the right word, Valentine wouldn't do something so mundane, he _glided_, he_ stalked_.

"Look at me, Lucian." Luke lifted his head. His blue eyes locked onto Valentine's black.

"There are few enough Shadowhunters as it is. I know potential when I see it and I want to help you. I want to train you. What do you say?"

Luke looked down again. It must be some cruel joke. He wondered who had put Valentine up to it. There were plenty of Shadowhunters that mocked his inability and enjoyed humiliating him. But there was a flicker of doubt. Valentine would not be put up to anything. He would never tease a straggler, he was so… perfect.

Luke swallowed. "If you can't think of any better way to waste your time, I suppose."

Valentine smiled down at him. He was like an angel himself. One of those paintings in the church come to life. He looked joyful and sad all at once.

"I know you won't disappoint me Lucian," he whispered and let a hand briefly alight on the other youth's head.

Lucian bowed his head to the benediction and for a pure moment he believed Valentine. He wouldn't disappoint his teacher.

(-)

Valentine was true to his word. Whenever they both had spare time Valentine would find him. Luke wondered how the older teen kept finding him. At first they would just talk about Shadowhunting, demons and the Nephilim. After these talks Luke would find that he retained some theory. Valentine would oversee his study, assigning books and prescribing exercises.

By this time Luke was desperate for anything that would make him a better Shadowhunter and followed Valentine's instructions to the letter.

During his reading Valentine would question him about the content or ask him to demonstrate a technique. There was never any doubt in Valentine's eyes. It was like he assumed that Luke was capable of anything he asked. That utter faith became infectious and Luke began to believe too.

Valentine was always ready to praise the slightest achievement. He wasn't condescending though. Whenever Luke got something right it was as if he had vindicated something his teacher had already known. Valentine would nod, almost to himself and Luke's pride would swell.

It got to the point where he craved his teacher's approval. That knowing nod and those few kind words meant more to him than the grades he got or the jovial back-slapping from his official teachers.

There was one area of his training that Valentine had not yet touched. But Luke could almost feel it approaching or hovering like some malicious demon. He dreaded the day that Valentine would be proved wrong.

(-)

"Please Valentine…I…I can't…I,"

"Shh, Lucian, your theory and your fighting techniques have improved phenomenally. You know this, but bearing Marks are so important. They separate us and rise us above all those we fight and those we fight to protect. They are the mark of a true Shadowhunter. They are a mark of your true self, Lucian."

No matter how many times Luke had shyly told Valentine that he could use his nickname, the other boy always called him Lucian. Luke had let the matter drop and now was secretly pleased by it. It made him feel like a real Shadowhunter and Valentine was the only one who used it.

"It burns, Valentine. I can't take the feeling of the stele against my skin. I just can't."

"Try, Lucian, for me."

Luke picked up the stele again and tried. He would try for Valentine one more time, even though he wouldn't try it again for himself. Luke stared at the top of his left arm and positioned the stele. Tears began to well in his eyes as the tip pressed against his skin. His hand shook and he cried out, letting the stele fall from his numb fingers.

Valentine patted Luke's hair as he always did to calm him.

"Give it to me. Lucian, do you trust me?"

"Yes," Luke whispered, staring up into those dark unfathomable eyes.

"Give me your arm."

Luke obeyed without question. Valentine smiled as he positioned the stele. He gently stroked the other teen's arm and waited for him to stop trembling. The first few centimetres of the rune were visible against his skin before Luke had given up.

"I find it easier to bear if you think about why you are doing this. It is not about the pain. It is about helping yourself. It is about bettering yourself for the sake of your duty. Think Lucian, try to think about a reason to bear this."

"Yes Valentine. I…I've thought of something."

"Good. Now try to relax. I know you trust me."

Luke closed his eyes and let his arm go limp. He hissed between his teeth as he felt the familiar bite of the stele, but restrained himself. Valentine slid the stele across his student's flesh with confidence and precision. By the end Luke had relaxed and wore a beatific smile, not unlike Valentine's.

"You did it, Lucian."

"I did."

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you think about?"

Luke took a deep breath and flicked his gaze upwards to his teacher, his hero, his idol.

"You."

Valentine smiled and handed him the stele. Without a moments hesitation Luke picked it up and placed its tip against the underside of his arm. He flicked his bright blue eyes up to Valentine in question. In any other teacher he would see doubt. They would give him a pat on the shoulder and ask if he was sure. Valentine did not doubt. He _never_ doubted. He wore a sober expression and was totally confident in the younger teen.

Luke traced a more complex rune on the sensitive flesh of his inner arm. He didn't flinch as the stele marked him. He thought of those beautiful dark eyes watching his movements. When the stele came away, Valentine traced the rune with his forefinger. Only then did Luke shiver.

"Well done, Lucian. I told you that you would not disappoint me. Why do persist in doubting me?" he asked playfully.

Luke knew Valentine was only teasing, but he answered the question seriously.

"I do not doubt you, Valentine. I could never doubt you. I doubt myself," he replied.

He was looking at his hands as he spoke and so missed the calculating expression that flitted across the other youth's face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for later chapters, this chapter is **T** for some violence

**False Idol**

_Chapter 2_

The teacher's expression was dark when he arrived to class. He sat with a sigh and let his hand run down his face.

"The council has just informed me that there is a demon loose in Idris. It is customary for older, more experienced Shadowhunters to…remove such a creature. Against my better judgement, however, the council has decided that it would be a good training exercise for some more advanced students." The teacher's expression twists with distaste. "I do not think it is appropriate for this level, but if anyone wants to volunteer I cannot go against the wishes of the council. I strongly recommend that no one volunteers. After all they can't force _you_."

Luke pondered and then decided that this was a decision that he didn't want to make alone. He flicked his eyes towards _his_ teacher and Valentine quirked an eyebrow in return. He never doubted.

"I would like to volunteer, sir," Luke said quietly.

The teacher started and gave Luke an almost pitying look. In that instant, Luke hated him for it.

"Luke, no one doubts the remarkable progress you've made but this is not something to take lightly and-"

"I will handle it." Valentine cut across the Shadowhunter.

The class started murmuring. Luke was devastated, how could Valentine undermine him like that? The teacher acquiesced, naturally. People tended not to refuse Valentine. Besides, he was the most accomplished Shadowhunter in the class. As he strode towards the exit he turned back to Luke. "Well are you coming? I need someone I can trust to watch my back."

Luke's heart swelled with pride. Everyone had heard about how Valentine trusted him. He was honoured and grabbed his weapons.

(-)

Idris was beautiful. Luke took a moment to observe his homeland. The lush flora was so soothing. Every step caused the heady smell of crushed grass to permeate the air. Rivers sparkled like silver in the distance.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Luke sighed.

"Yes. It is our reward for duties. We cannot let it be sullied. Look." Valentine gestured towards the ground.

The grass was charred and flaked beneath their feet. Luke felt righteous anger rise in his chest. How could anyone, even a demon, desecrate such beauty? They were obviously monsters.

At least he trail was easy enough to follow. Luke found himself burning with a righteous wrath that he had never fully experienced. Although loath to admit it, demons usually caused feelings of fear within him. But striding beside Valentine he felt bold and just.

Valentine held up a hand and gestured. The creature was huddled under a tree. Valentine flicked his fingers in a familiar pattern. Luke recognised the order to circle around and flank the demon.

He nodded once and began to stalk forward. Valentine circled to the right. It was inevitable that the demon would notice them. Naturally, Valentine was a better tracker and it was Luke who gave their position away. Without even noticing Valentine, the demon sprang at Luke. Ragged claws grappled him and he quickly hefted his Seraph blade to parry.

Valentine looked like an avenging angel as he struck from the right. His blade sliced deep into the demon's torso. The wound spurted red-black blood that steamed as it splattered on the grass. The demon's howl was unholy. There was a metallic shriek as claws tangled with Valentine's blade. Luke hacked at a wing and more blood fell from the ruptured veins.

Valentine slid his blade into its abdomen. Luke flinched, knowing a mortal wound by sight and also knowing how long a gut wound takes to kill. Valentine stood cold and implacable while he watched the demon twitching on the ground before him. It took a long time to still. He carefully whipped his blade clean before sheathing it. There was an unpleasant smile adorning his features.

"We did it," Luke murmured.

"Indeed. I may not have succeeded without your assistance. These beasts," Valentine gently turned the corpse with his foot, "are fouler than I had imagined."

Luke looked down. In death the demon looked more pitiful than foul. The wings were torn and bloody and the body seemed to curl protectively inward. It seemed somehow smaller, the membranous wings almost delicate.

Luke had noticed how the demon didn't burn the ground intentionally. The creature simply left ash in its wake, as if the very earth was rebelling against its presence. It didn't belong here, that much he knew. But he was pretty sure the demon had known that too. He shuddered.

Valentine laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It was a monster, Lucian. There was only one way this could have ended. It would have done worse to us, to our home if it had been left to its own devices."

Luke nodded, but he still felt unsettled.

Luke fell into step beside his teacher. After a pause, he broke the silence. "Thank you, Valentine, for taking me with you, for trusting me, for…"

"Lucian, you needn't thank me for such things. I trust you because you trust me and that trust is the reason I wanted you at my back today. It takes more than skill to make a good Shadowhunter."

Valentine gave Luke one of his beatific smiles. Luke's breath hitched at the sheer radiance of that expression and the stunning words of praise. The disquieting expression on Valentine's face was completely forgotten.

Valentine was so perfect. Clad in Shadowhunter gear, he epitomised the sleek deadliness of the Nephilim. His body was powerful and flawless and his grace and his dark eyes held such intensity… Luke shook his head. He had no qualms about admiring Valentine. He was his hero, after all, but he didn't like the sorts of emotions that had begun to infect his admiration.

It was almost as if he found Valentine attractive. Well of course he was attractive, he had half the girls in the school panting after him, but did he find Valentine attractive? Well yes, obviously…but no…not like that…but…He shook his head again. He was too consumed by his musings to notice that Valentine was watching him closely or the faint smile tugging at his teacher's lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason (finally), contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 3_

Warm lips pressed against his. His own lips parted with a sigh and a sleek, warm tongue accepted the invitation. The kiss deepened and his eyes closed. It made no difference; the darkness in his room was almost complete. He couldn't even see the features of the figure looming above him.

He moaned softly, almost inaudibly, when he realised the level of passion the other was displaying. Their tongues flicked and teased one another. When teeth grazed his bottom lip he felt a pleasant shiver work down his spine.

There were hands braced on either side of his head. It created a feeling of security. Weight shifted and one arm was braced on its elbow, leaving the other hand to trace down his torso, down his flat belly. Teasing fingers drifted across his pants line. Those fingers left a trail of fire that felt almost like the bite of a stele, but so much better.

"Please." It was barely more than a whisper.

His own hands gently caressed the back that arched over him. He suddenly found himself naked and he could feel the heat of a hand just above his erection. He trembled with the effort to keep still.

He groaned when he felt hot breath replace the heat of the absent hand. This was unbearable. He needed contact, any contact, desperately. When he felt a tongue slide against him he stifled a cry with the back of his wrist. When he felt a hot mouth surround him, his hands fisted in the sheets and his head was thrown right back. He writhed around, but strong fingers dug into his hips to keep him still.

He finished with a shudder and there was no way he could prevent the cry that tore from his lips. The presence shifted and it was over him once more. Reaching out with trembling fingers he seized the smooth face of his beloved and brought those lips down towards his own. After a kiss that was more conquest than compassion, they sprang apart for a much needed breath. A cool forehead rested against his own.

"Lucian," the figure whispered.

"Valentine," came his equally soft affirmation.

(-)

He awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. His heart beat wildly and his cheeks were flushed. He didn't know if it was the arousal or the guilt. He had just dreamt of… no. He couldn't even wrap his head around the idea. His brow furrowed in thought.

Did he like Valentine? His dream sort of closed the case on that one. Did that mean he liked males? That was a harder question to answer. He liked Jocelyn and certainly as more than a friend, although the feeling was hardly reciprocated. Also he had an eye for females and he had never really noticed other males before. Perhaps it was just Valentine. Was that possible? Valentine seemed to transcend such mundane things as gender.

He buried his face in his hands. This wasn't right. He had no strong opinions about who people chose to sleep with, but Valentine? His saviour? Luke felt ashamed. He was unworthy. It was like having a crush on the Angel. He almost felt as if he had betrayed Valentine in some way. The dark eyed youth had saved him and all Luke seemed to be able to think about was his intense stare and flawless physique.

He rolled over in bed and tried to sleep. He was still aroused but he refused to even consider tending it himself. He knew he would only end up thinking of Valentine. He wasn't going to let his conscious mind follow his subconscious' desires. He would accept it like a penance. Unfortunately, for a teenager, some things are a lot easier to accept than follow through with.

Blushing furiously and swearing that it was going to be the first and last time, Luke's hand crept down between his legs as his mind filled with images of Valentine.

(-)

He tapped timidly at Valentine's door. Even though he had been in his teacher's room many times before, it still felt like invading Valentine's inner sanctum. The very walls seemed to absorb his presence.

"Enter, Lucian," came a smooth voice from within.

Luke was not surprised that Valentine knew who it was. He doubted that many people would knock on his door, and certainly not so hesitantly.

Valentine's presence was even more compelling in person than in his sordid imagination. He really did look like an angel. Perhaps more like an archangel, a fiery soldier of righteousness. Who would not want to sleep with him.

His eyes widened at the audacity of his brain to think such a thought. He quickly turned his head away and tried to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

"Lucian, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He turned his head away, unable to let Valentine see the anguish in his eyes. He was nothing compared to his perfect teacher. Such thoughts demeaned them both.

"I though you knew you could tell me anything, by now," Valentine teased.

"I-of course I can, but…"

Valentine smiled. "I understand. But know that I am here whenever you are ready to talk, Lucian."

Luke gave Valentine a pathetically grateful smile. He was so relieved that his teacher had not pressed the issue. He knew that he would have told him, he would have done anything Valentine asked of him, but he needed time to work out how to stifle his feelings. They returned to their discussion on demon hierarchies. Valentine praised his improvement and seemed genuinely delighted by some of the sophisticated points his pupil was making.

Luke was too preoccupied to remember his guilty blush or notice Valentine's thoughtful expression.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for later chapters, this chapter is **T**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 4 _

Valentine's room was austere by design rather than necessity. The furniture was of superb quality dark wood, but it lacked any sort of embellishment or comfort. Even the wide mattress was rock hard. However this supposedly humble simplicity held a hard edge of ruthless pride.

It was a matter of denying weakness. It gave Valentine a warm sense of superiority. While many students tried to evoke a feeling of home in their rooms, during training he stripped away comfort, layer by layer, until his strength was honed. However, he didn't despise the weakness in others. Instead he chose to be pleased by it. After all, it would make his own ambitions more attainable.

Valentine sat at his desk, thinking. It was a common pastime for him. One graceful hand was idly drumming the polished surface of the wood, his other placed on the unyielding armrest of his chair.

Lucian Graymark. He twisted the name around in his head, observing it from different angles. His thoughts were turning as wheels inside wheels.

Lucian Graymark. He had made remarkable progress under his tutelage. This was expected. The debt was already being fulfilled as each day Lucian bound himself more closely to his teacher.

Valentine could see it in the looks of helpless awe and adoration. When the time came for him to reveal his ideas concerning the future of the Nephilim, he knew that he could be sure of Lucian's support. He and many like him, the forgotten, the fearful and the unremarkable looked to him for guidance. He cultivated these…friendships closely.

No, there was no problem there. The reason for Valentine's musings derived from the other sort of looks that he saw on Lucian's face. His student clearly wanted something more than simple friendship. If those guilty blushes were anything to go by, it was likely that he realised this and was probably ashamed.

Valentine already had his eye on Jocelyn. Not in any romantic sense, he thought with a wry twist of his well-shaped lips. She was an exceptional Shadowhunter, a natural, if you will. She was good breeding stock and would produce fine children when coupled with him. He did feel genuine desire for her, but that was secondary.

Valentine did not really distinguish between the genders. People were either useful or not, potential allies or potential obstacles. He knew that some people agonised over this sort of thing and was willing to wager that Lucian was just such an individual.

Because of this, he knew that if he did not initiate anything then neither would his pupil. Like most things in his life, it was entirely up to him. That left the question of whether he wanted to start something.

The tempo of his drumming fingers increased. Lucian clearly had feelings towards his choice of mate, Jocelyn. That could create problems if it wasn't dealt with. If he contrived an intimate relationship with Lucian first, then that could reduce the impact of his seduction of Jocelyn later. Lucian would then see it as Valentine doing his duty to his cause of increasing the Shadowhunter ranks, which it was.

The closer he became to Lucian the less likely his student was to feel jealous. Valentine knew all about the destructive nature of emotions. It was better to work to prevent it now than have to deal with the consequences later.

Valentine didn't even consider the possibility of either Shadowhunter refusing him. While he always factored in as many variables as possible, it was nonsensical to consider that eventuality. That sort of thing just didn't happen. He could project whatever his target wanted to see. In fact they usually did that all by themselves. That was something he had learned quite early. People saw what they wanted to see and they always wanted to see something inspiring.

Valentine's fingers stilled. He needed someone close to him when he finally begun putting things in motion. He needed someone he could trust, someone who would be utterly loyal, a right hand.

Lucian was already a prime candidate. His skills were increasing rapidly and he practically worshiped his teacher. Valentine gave a rueful smile. To tie Lucian to him through the bed….that thought had definite merits. That sort of relationship could even cloud judgement if used correctly, if necessary.

The only conceivable problem would be if Lucian's emotional investment made him irrational. Valentine had seen this happen in intimate relationships. Two perfectly sensible individuals suddenly became completely unreasonable whenever sex was involved. It was madness. While Valentine was certainly not adverse to pleasure, he did not believe in letting it control him. That was something that happened to other people, idiotic people.

Valentine stretched elegantly. It would be pleasant to share Lucian's bed. Lucian was rather attractive, with his dark hair and clear, blue eyes. Also his pupil would likely give Valentine whatever he wanted. Restraint wasn't an issue either. Valentine only felt a certain level of hatred for demons and their various incarnations and a level of contempt for mortals. He wouldn't do anything that might cause Lucian to become disillusioned.

The only foreseeable difficulty lay with convincing Lucian that he was worthy. That might prove challenging, considering that no one was truly his equal. Baring the Angels and God of course, he added as an afterthought. But equality wasn't that important in these matters. While such things seemed to mean something to other people in physical relationships, they held little importance to him.

Well that settled things. Lucian would become his most trusted companion and he now had the means to ensure that. Smiling happily to himself, Valentine rose and padded towards his door. It was time to visit Lucian Graymark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 5_

Luke lay in his bed, thinking. He didn't want to be thinking, he wanted to be sleeping, but after two hours it seemed his mind had other plans for him. He could not get Valentine out of his head. That in itself was not unreasonable. Since the beginning of his training, his thoughts inevitably turned to Valentine's lessons. This however, was something entirely different. He just thanked the Angel that it wasn't arousal keeping him awake, this time.

After flipping himself over he lay still. The hairs at the back of his neck rose. Luke shifted to a sitting position. Since he was awake, he instinctively felt someone's presence hovering just outside his room. There weren't many individuals that could sneak up on him. It was a spark of pride that he had always retained, even before Valentine had begun to train him.

Out of the cloying darkness came a voice. "Lucian."

It was more affirmation than question, but Luke still felt compelled to answer.

"Yes, Valentine?" he managed to utter, despite the pleasant shiver that worked its way down his spine. He instantly felt guilty about it, but managed to focus.

It was just like that very first night when Valentine had visited his room. That was the night that Valentine had turned his training around. Valentine had saved him, made him feel worthy, rather than a waste of Nephilim blood.

On the heels of that thought came the realisation that Valentine had glided up to his bed. He was also acutely aware that he was only wearing his boxer shorts due to the night's pleasant warmth. He hugged the thin sheet closer to his chest, flushing at the thought of how ridiculous he must look to his perfectly composed teacher.

Valentine tilted his head to one side and regarded his student with a bemused expression. Luke was relieved that the darkness hid his blush. At this point he could barely distinguish his embarrassment from his guilt.

"Are you cold?" Valentine asked in concern.

Luke refused to meet his dark eyes and shook his head. "No, it's just that I'm… not… wearing much in the heat."

"Does my presence bother you because of this?"

"No, not at all. Your presence never bothers me," Luke hastily assured.

Valentine raised an eyebrow and waited patiently for Luke to stop clutching the cover. The cover slid down into Luke's lap in a way that he found entirely too sensual. God! What was wrong with him?

"I fear I must apologise to you, Lucian," Valentine sighed.

"What? No. I mean, there's nothing…you haven't _done_ anything." Luke's world seemed to have just lurched in an unpleasant direction. What possible reason could Valentine have to apologise to him of all people? If anything _he_ should be apologising to his angelic mentor.

Valentine chuckled. "I'm afraid that you are quite wrong Lucian, although I am loath to say it."

That was true. Valentine never appeared to take the slightest bit of pleasure in pointing out his mistakes. It was something Luke had always appreciated. Some of his teachers and most of his class seemed to take malicious glee in pointing out his flaws.

"You see," Valentine continued. "I have noticed how you occasionally react to my presence and some of the looks that you have given me."

"Valentine, it's not-"

Valentine held up a hand. "Let me finish, Lucian."

Luke closed his mouth and nodded sharply. He owed it to Valentine to at least hear what he had to say. He hoped his teacher would not be too brutal in his rejection.

"You see, I have noticed this and yet I have done nothing. Do not think that I could not see how this dilemma was making you suffer and still I did nothing. I should have addressed this earlier and spared you such heartache."

Luke nodded with his head bent sharply and his chin resting against his chest. He waited to hear Valentine lay his fantasies to rest, once and for all. This expectation was accompanied by a certain level of hope that this would put an end to his guilty desires.

Cool fingers were pressed against Luke's cheek and he allowed Valentine to tilt his head upward. Then Valentine placed his lips against Luke's.

Luke's first thought was that he had slipped into one of his own fantasies. His first reaction was to pull away and scramble away until his back thudded against the wall.

"Wh-What? I…huh?"

"I was unaware that I was such a frightful kisser. If you object so much I'm sure you can show me how it's done," Valentine teased.

"Sorry, it's just…I don't know. I'm not…" Luke shook his head miserably.

"Lucian," Valentine's tone was suddenly serious. "I know you and I know that you have a distorted image of yourself.

"When I first offered to train you, you assumed that I was deluded and 'wasting my time' as you put it. Look at your progress. Look at your own potential. This is the same thing again. You have some absurd idea that you don't deserve this. Like I said before, if you can't see it in yourself than at least trust me. I can see things that others do not and if I want this, who are you to tell me I'm wrong?" Valentine finished with a smile.

Luke hesitated but finally shifted forward and gave a shy smile. "Well, I don't know about you being a 'frightful kisser', but I think you'll need to try that again before I make a judgement."

"Really now?" replied Valentine with mock surprise. "We shall see then."

This time when their lips met, Luke didn't pull away and allowed himself to focus on the kiss and disregard the consequences.

Valentine was as far away from frightful as possible. His warm lips veritably burned against Luke's and when he felt the older teen trace his lower lip with his tongue, Luke parted his lips with a small moan. The invitation was taken and Luke happily surrendered to Valentine's compelling tongue.

Valentine gradually situated himself further into Luke's personal space until the dark haired teen was being gently pressed down to his bed. Then he was lying across his student while keeping his weight on his knees and a forearm. He let one hand explore the contours of Luke's chest and ghost over his nipples.

"How far do you want this to go, Lucian?" He asked with a smile.

Luke was already panting and he writhed beneath the touch. "Whatever you want, anything," he breathed. In the dark, with his eyes closed in rapture, he could not see the smile on the older teen's face.

(-)

"Are you sure?" Valentine asked, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice.

"Yes, of course. I trust you. Please." Lucian was becoming less and less coherent.

Valentine continued to explore the lean frame beneath his hand and then he begun to move steadily lower. He slipped his fingers just bellow the line of Lucian's boxers, stoped and looked up at his student's face. The dark haired teen nodded. Valentine removed the boxers and then he removed his own shirt and pants as an afterthought. It would not do to further intimidate the already tentative Lucian.

Even in the dark he could see the wonder in the other's gaze as he hesitantly ran his hands over Valentine's broad, well muscled chest. The sensation was not unpleasant for the dark eyed teen. Either way, he certainly approved of the worship.

His slender fingers found the side of Lucian's face and gently caressed his lips. With a pleasantly surprising flash of understanding, Lucian closed his mouth over the digits and ran his tongue across them. When they were sufficiently slick, Valentine let his hand drift between Lucian's legs.

Lucian shivered and then arched when one of Valentine's fingers entered him. His breath hissed between his teeth, hopefully more in anticipation than any real pain.

Valentine was gentle as he prepared his student, slowly moving his fingers in and out. He tried to recall the various rumours about this sort of thing. He stored away any information he heard, no matter how irrelevant it seemed at the time. After all, if this night proved anything it was that you never knew when some piece of supposedly trivial information might become useful.

Working partially on broken fragments of anecdotes and innuendo, and partially on instinct, Valentine found what he was looking for. He let his fingers slide teasingly inside Lucian and was rewarded by a muffled cry and shudder. When he deemed the time right, he withdrew completely. Lucian choked back a whimper at the sudden loss.

Valentine positioned himself and then slowly began to enter the younger teen. This particular activity would have been much harder without his iron control. Perhaps it wasn't so ludicrous for people to become irrational about sex. After all, taking his current activity slowly demanded every skerrick of willpower he possessed.

Finally he was in and his student was caught between writhing and trying to remain still. He placed his hands on those wiry hips and held him down. He did not want this experience to result in pain for either of them.

After a lengthy pause (partially to prove that he could control himself, and partially to allow both of them time to adjust) he began to thrust.

(-)

Each movement of Valentine's hips against his own made Luke gasp and buck. This was more than he had dared to hope. Valentine had chosen him, had deemed him worthy. It was bliss.

Every thrust brought him closer and closer. Valentine seemed to know instinctively how to move. The vision of his teacher, sweat slicked, with the muscles in his neck and shoulders corded and pressing against his smooth skin was amazing.

When Valentine looked down at him with his dark eyes blazing, Luke arched up and boldly seized his lips in a fierce kiss. When he heard his name as a soft cry in the dark, he could hold back no longer. He cried out as he spilled over his own stomach and felt Valentine finish inside him too.

They lay close together in the dark. Valentine's ragged breathing was beginning to even out, although Luke still panted. Being held in his teacher's arms was the most pleasant thing that Luke had ever experienced. The steady heartbeat beside him soon lulled him to sleep.

In the dark, Valentine's eyes were open and his expression was thoughtful.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 6_

Luke shifted as he awoke and felt strong arms tightening around him. He grinned to himself when he recognised the source and then flushed as he remembered the activities of the previous evening.

"Good morning, Lucian." Luke could feel the words pulse through the warm chest behind him.

"Good morning, Valentine."

He turned around in his lover's arms and gave him a quick kiss. Valentine smiled indulgently.

"I have some things that I want to discuss, Lucian. These are important things concerning the future of the Nephilim."

Luke nodded.

"What do you remember of our discussions about the Nephilim as a fighting force?"

Luke tilted his head to one side and pondered. "Well, you were concerned that less and less of us are born each generation. You thought that we might be a dying breed. You worried about what would become of the Mundanes if we were to disappear."

"Indeed." Valentine's voice was very quiet, but the intensity of his expression belied his tone.

"I also mentioned the Mortal Cup."

"Yes, the artefact that can turn Mundanes into Nephilim."

"Haven't you ever wondered why, if we are a dying breed, that the council refuses to make more of us and convert more humans into Nephilim?"

Luke shrugged, vaguely uncomfortable. "Well, they claim that it's dangerous, that it takes a special sort of individual to... survive the change."

"I don't think that that's the truth. I think that the Council wishes to keep the Nephilim as a privileged elite at the expense of the safety of the earth itself," Valentine finished in ringing tones. "Lucian, there are some people that I wish you to meet. These are individuals that I have also taken an interest in."

Luke had to quell the sudden wave of burning jealousy to focus on what his teacher was saying.

"Lucian, you are the first and the greatest among them and you don't even know it yet. I trust you implicitly and I want you beside me when I discuss these issues with these friends of mine." Luke's pride surged.

"Of course, Valentine. I'd be honoured."

"No, Lucian, you honour me."

Luke smiled and sat up. After a moment he looked down at himself and grimaced. "Before I go anywhere, I definitely need a shower."

A distracting thought traipsed through his mind. He flushed and then plucked at the sheets in an effort to avoid Valentine's eyes.

"You could join me if you want…?" Luke gave the statement the barest upward inflection.

"I'd be delighted to. I could certainly use a shower myself," Valentine grinned.

Luke slid out of bed and padded across to his bathroom. He was keenly aware of his lack of clothes, but decided he was being silly, considering.

When he got to the shower he fiddled with the taps. He felt Valentine's presence behind him. Taking a deep breath he positioned himself under the spray. His teacher's arms slid around him from behind and he leaned back into the touch with a soft moan. He grabbed the soap and turned around.

Valentine took the soap from his student with a raised eyebrow and began to wash himself. Luke found himself gapping at the sight of Valentine's sleek frame and felt the stirrings of arousal.

Valentine's eyes flicked down and he smirked. Luke felt mortified until he realised that his teacher seemed to have a similar predicament.

In a moment of lust-fuelled boldness Luke knelt down before his teacher, taking care not to slip. Valentine's eyes widened ever so slightly. With a shrug he carded his hand through Luke's damp hair. With a final hesitation, Luke took Valentine in his mouth. His teacher uttered a low moan as he worked him with his lips and tongue. He shivered when he heard Valentine's purring tones above him.

"I want you to touch yourself, Lucian, while you're doing this."

Luke uttered a questioning noise that elicited another moan from Valentine.

"Come on, Lucian, do it."

Luke did as he was bid and moved his hand between his legs as he continued to pleasure the older teen. At first he blushed heavily and wondered why Valentine had asked him to do this. But he soon realised how good it felt to have Valentine watching him. It was incredibly arousing. He felt simultaneously dirty and excited. He could also feel that intense stare on him even with the groans that sounded above him. He was moaning too and he wondered how it felt to Valentine.

When Valentine spilled into his mouth with a soft cry, he jack-knifed into his own hand and felt himself seeping through his fingers. He swallowed what he could of Valentine and let the rest wash away. He knelt there panting for a while until he felt Valentine crouch beside him. The darked eyed youth placed kisses down his neck that made him shudder.

"We should finish up here. There is much to do today and I need you there beside me, Lucian."

It was all Luke could do to nod. Valentine chuckled and helped him to stand. The rest of the shower passed uneventfully, but Luke took every opportunity he could to watch Valentine while he was wet and naked. His teacher was just so perfect.

(-)

He stood by Valentine's side as they entered the room. He was surprised by how many Shadowhunters had congregated. He was even more surprised with the familiarity with which some of them greeted his teacher.

Valentine made a point of introducing each of them to Luke and in turn introducing Luke to them. He called him his right hand, his sword arm. Luke was exhilarated as he let the introductions wash over him.

He recognised many of the Shadowhunters as fellow outcasts, people who didn't quite fit into the elite. There was Hodge Starkweather, the quite boy who always had his nose in a book. However when he looked at Valentine, there was something solemn in his expression that made him look thoughtful rather than preoccupied.

Maryse Trueblood was sneered at for the sake of her brother. He had chosen to marry a Mundane and had forsaken his sacred duty. Very few would talk to her and almost everyone looked down on her. Luke had to suppress a jealous flash when Valentine gave her shoulder a squeeze and she looked up at him with heartfelt gratitude.

Robert Lightwood was someone he could relate to. He remembered from class that he had the same fear of the Marks that he himself had once possessed. He saw him smile at Valentine and then finger his stele.

The others were mostly strangers to him, but he smiled politely as he was introduced, only to forget their names a few seconds later. He tried to imitate Valentine's gracious demeanour as he shook hands and uttered a reassuring word or two. Valentine seemed to know everyone on sight. He knew their names and their stories. Even the strangers seemed comfortable around him.

Luke noticed the looks he was receiving by standing at Valentine's side. Some contained envy and others contained awe. He knew that he was standing a little bit close to his teacher and that the other Nephilim could easily infer a stronger relationship than the way Valentine was introducing him. He was secretly pleased by it.

Finally Valentine took his place at the front of the room. He waited for complete silence and he seemed to meet the gaze of every individual in the room, one by one. Only when he had their utter attention and silence did he speak.

"I'm glad that you could all be here today. Some of you I know well and some of you know me as barely more than a reputation. Some are here because your friend told you to come. In some cases that friend was me." Here he smiled and a few Shadowhunters returned the expression.

"A few of you are here because you know what I will be discussing and you are equally concerned. After today I hope that all of you will share these concerns."

Valentine launched in to an impassioned monologue about the plight of the Nephilim. He painted the Council as a corrupt elite that had forgotten their sacred charge. He described a world in which their actions led to the fall of the Nephilim and subsequently the end of the protection that the poor, ignorant Mundanes enjoyed. He even warned of the triumph of hell itself.

Luke had heard these theories before, but the way Valentine described them now made his heart race and emotions pound against his skull. It all made so much sense. How could they have all been so blind?

By the end of his speech Valentine's voice was barely above a whisper and every Shadowhunter in the room was straining to catch his words. The air hummed with tension.

Silence reigned as Valentine finished speaking. It was finally broken by a plaintive question from an unseen person standing in the back.

"But what do we do?"

Valentine smiled a sad and beautiful smile. It made Luke's heart ache.

"The situation is too far gone to be changed from the inside. The risk of corruption is too great. We can only influence from the outside. A new order must come forth. We shall unite and we shall be heard. Change moves slowly, ponderously, but it will happen. Every one of you will be a part of that change. For now your loyalty is enough. Your dedication to _truth_ is enough. But soon when our voice is heard, we shall rise like the Angel himself.

"We shall not call ourselves 'council' as the name harks to a patronising, supposedly benevolent _dictatorship_. No. We shall call ourselves the Circle. As the legend of King Arthur himself, we are a round table, we are a fellowship. All here are equal and we shall strive to unite the Nephilim and bring the Mundanes into the Light to stem the tide of Darkness. This is our Angel-driven purpose."

Valentine finished with his voice raised to the ceiling and his arms lifted in holy rapture to the heavens themselves.

The applause was thunderous.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 7_

Luke walked beside Valentine on their way from their last class together. There were only a few minutes before Valentine had to attend a lecture on advanced demonology.

Their previous class had been one concerning deeper, more intricate Marks. Valentine had mastered them quickly and Luke was thrilled with his own small triumph. He was one of the few people who had been successful by the end of the class.

Most of the class had struggled with the patterns. However Luke had noted that Robert Lightwood had also made adequate progress. He also noticed the small nod that Valentine had given him. It didn't bother the dark haired teen though. Robert was in the Circle and they should all support one another. Besides, Valentine had sat next to him, his right hand, and watched over his painstaking work with an appraising eye.

Luke's thoughts swung toward the present when he saw a familiar figure making her way up the corridor. Jocelyn moved with a grace that was exceptional, even among experienced Shadowhunters. Her dark red hair flowed halfway down her back and her narrow, willowy form seemed to have been designed to wear Shadowhunter gear. Luke's mouth went dry at the sight of her and he didn't even notice the way Valentine tensed beside him.

Jocelyn halted in front of the pair and looked Valentine up and down. Luke wished she had spared a glance for him as well.

Valentine inclined his head briefly before addressing her. "Jocelyn, you weren't at the meeting." It was a statement rather than a question and although Valentine had a beautiful smile on his face, Luke noticed the hard edge to his voice.

Jocelyn replied with her own smile. "No, but I heard all about it from Hodge and then from Maryse. At length. Although something tells me that they weren't nearly as convincing as you would have been, Valentine."

"Perhaps it is my passion for the topic that sways so many individuals," Valentine replied loftily.

Jocelyn gave him an odd look. "Perhaps," she murmured. "Anyway, I wasn't particularly interested in a meeting of the Valentine fan club. Speaking of which, when did you become Valentine's number one fan, Luke?"

Luke shifted under Jocelyn's playful gaze. He never felt entirely comfortable in her presence, as much as he liked her. Valentine was much easier to be around. Especially now that some things had been resolved. He tore his thoughts away from that before he blushed.

"Valentine happens to be a very close friend of mine," he stated with attempted confidence. "He helps me study."

"Oh, so that's why your training has improved so rapidly. Congratulations, I suppose. Whatever helps your training. No one denies that Valentine is an excellent Shadowhunter."

"Thank you for the compliment."

"Compliment? All I said was that no one denies it. I didn't even say why."

"Indeed." The hard edge to Valentine's voice had returned and his smile didn't reach his eyes. "A pleasure as always Jocelyn. Feel free to attend my 'fan club' anytime you wish. You are an exceptional Shadowhunter, whatever anyone says."

Jocelyn gave him a smile that twisted slightly at the corner of her mouth. "I'll keep that in mind."

Valentine nodded and swept down the corridor. Luke lengthened his stride to catch his teacher. After walking together for a while, he decided to break the silence.

"That was odd."

"She is a headstrong girl. Here inclusion into the Circle would be of use, but I don't think that she is inclined to take things seriously." Valentine's tone was offhand but icy.

Luke just shrugged. He liked Jocelyn, but this was the first time she had ever really noticed him. Besides, he was happy with Valentine.

Almost as if his teacher could sense his thoughts, he slowed down. "Would you like to sleep in my room tonight, Lucian?"

Luke started and then looked at his feet.

Valentine stepped closer into his personal space. "We wouldn't even have to do anything, if you didn't want to. I would just like to have your body next to me in bed."

Luke looked up and gulped when he noticed how close they were standing. His lips parted unthinkingly, in the expectation of a kiss. He couldn't take his eyes of Valentine's lips. However, those lips simply quirked into a grin.

"Hmm?" Valentine enquired lazily.

"That would be nice," Luke finally managed to gasp. He was appalled by how trite he sounded.

"Good. I'll see you there at dusk."

Valentine stepped back and continued down the corridor. He left Luke feeling far more flustered than he had felt during their encounter with Jocelyn. He silently berated himself for not leaning in and kissing the older teen when he had the chance. Now he had to wait until this evening.

(-)

Luke stood outside Valentine's door. He doubted that his teacher was aware of his presence. The dark haired teen was anxious enough about entering Valentine's room during the day, but in the evening, to spend the night, he was close to panic. Nonetheless his heartbeat sped and a warm feeling spread through his body at the thought.

It was different when Valentine came to his room. That was familiar ground, his own territory and if Valentine came to him then he could just take his cues from his mentor. This was different. He felt like an invader.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. Valentine had called him his right hand. The entire Circle had seen him stand by his side. Even if he didn't always trust his judgement he trusted Valentine. He knocked on the door and entered when he heard the soft assent from within.

Valentine was topless when Luke entered and his bottom half was clad in loose black pants. Valentine locked his gaze with Luke's pale blue eyes when the younger teen could finally stop staring at his bare chest.

"I was worried you would leave before you knocked," Valentine uttered in a low voice.

Luke licked his lips. "You knew I was out there?"

This elicited a nod from his teacher. "It had to be your choice," he replied simply.

Luke perched on the edge of Valentine's bed. The mattress refused to yield. He raised an eyebrow. "Hard bed."

"Indeed. I allow myself few luxuries."

He smiled and sat next to the younger teen. The mattress dinted minutely under his heavier frame.

"Although," he continued playfully. "Having you here is a luxury all of its own, Lucian."

Luke smiled and leaned in to kiss his teacher. Valentine pulled back.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Luke nodded.

Valentine slid an arm around Luke's waist and pulled him closer. He trailed kisses down his student's jaw line and neck. Luke tilted his head back and exposed his throat with a moan. Teeth scrapped lightly against his neck and he leaned into the touch.

The arm around his waist tightened and bore him down to the bed.

Luke's clothes were quickly discarded and Valentine ran a possessive hand down his student's body. Luke was panting and gasped when Valentine's hand found his nipple. He felt overwhelmed when Valentine brought their lips together. Surrender was the only viable option, the only choice he wanted. He wrapped his legs around the older teen's waist.

The friction between them was incredible. Even Valentine was groaning as his hands explored Luke's torso.

"More," Luke managed to pant.

Something odd sparked behind his teacher's eyes and the smile that blossomed on his face could only be described as predatory.

"As you wish," he whispered.

He removed his pants and the next moment Luke felt Valentine's slender finger inside him. He arched and moaned. Valentine was gentle but restrained. Tension was clear in every line of his powerful body. Luke's pulse was racing.

When he was finally entered he cried out Valentine's name. His eyes were riveted on the older teen above him. Valentine's own dark eyes bored into his. They veritably blazed in the low light.

To Luke it seemed as if their bodies moved perfectly together. Apparently Shadowhunter grace had other uses. Valentine was still measured in his thrusts but there was a slight edge of desperation that Luke had not remembered from other encounters. He mistook it for passion.

Valentine muffled his final cry in Luke's shoulder while Luke just threw his head back in ecstasy and uttered a low moan.

Afterwards they lay side by side and Valentine played with a stray wisp of Luke's dark hair. He realised why Valentine had invited him to stay the night. It was very pleasant to simply sleep in the same bed as Valentine. It was indeed a luxury.

Luke still felt a little guilty because he hoped that Jocelyn would want to join the Circle so that he could see more of her. He knew the Circle was more important than that, but he still hoped. Of course the strongest guilt came from the fact that he still liked Jocelyn despite what he had with Valentine. Somehow the emotions were different, but he still felt like a traitor for liking her. He sighed to himself. He felt like this so often that it would be nice, just once, to feel noble like Valentine.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters, this is probably a **K+**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 8_

Valentine didn't always speak during Circle meetings. He told Luke that it was more of an opportunity for the Circle to get to know one another. It was very important that they bond together to form a coherent force.

Valentine was currently discussing the Council voting system with a couple of Shadowhunters. Luke had already heard the arguments about that topic and decided that his time could be used more productively.

He sought out Robert Lightwood to discuss the Marks. It was nice to have someone who had been through the same troubles as himself. With naturals like Valentine and Jocelyn around, sometimes it was hard not think that an inability to excel was some sort of deficiency.

He found Robert in a corner and struck up a conversation. Robert was more than happy to discuss the Marks now that his fear had been eradicated.

"The anticipation is worse than the pain itself. I mean, the burn of a stele can even be pleasant sometimes, especially if it's a healing rune," Robert asserted.

Luke nodded. "Agreed. You also build up a sort of immunity to it through practice."

"I've always found that the hardest part of the pain is the distraction," a bright voice cut in. "When you're trying to draw an intricate rune, it gets harder and harder to ignore the burn."

Both males turned at Jocelyn's approach. She gave them a smile.

Robert stiffened. "I find it hard to imagine that anything could distract a Shadowhunter of _your_ calibre." His tone had a bitter edge to it.

Luke cringed inwardly, but Jocelyn merely shrugged. "We all get distracted now and then." Her gaze slid over to Luke and Robert stamped off. "Valentine seems to do an admirable job of keeping everyone distracted."

"What do you mean by that?" Luke bristled.

"Just that no one seems to question how many mortal lives the Cup might cost. I hear that they don't often survive the transition if they aren't born to the duty."

"Ah, but how do we _know_ that? It's entirely likely that the Council has-"

"Spare me, Luke, please. I've heard the arguments. I've heard the Council conspiracy theories. I just wanted to hear what you thought."

"I trust Valentine," intoned Luke with complete conviction.

Jocelyn nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. You're close to Valentine, his 'right hand'. I get it. I actually am worried about declining Nephilim numbers, but I also worry about Valentine. He's just a little too persuasive. I'd hate to see what would happen if asked the Circle to jump off a bridge."

Luke snorted. "You really don't take this seriously, do you?"

Jocelyn gave him a look of exaggerated shock. "Of course I take the Valentine fan club seriously! I'm even thinking of getting a t-shirt. Ooh, maybe Valentine would sign it if I asked really nicely."

Luke smiled and shook his head. A moment later he felt a hand descend on his shoulder.

"Here you are, Lucian. I was wondering where you were," Valentine's warm voice greeted him. "And greetings to you Jocelyn. I'm glad you could make it."

Jocelyn shrugged. "To be honest I was just curious about all the fuss. Are you going to speak today?"

"I usually say a few words before everyone leaves."

"Oh, I'm definitely looking forward to that bit," Jocelyn smirked.

"Indeed." The hand on Luke's shoulder tightened imperceptibly.

"I would like you to accompany me while I exchange a few words with some new members, Lucian."

Luke nodded and trailed after Valentine.

The new members were Michael Wayland and his friends. Luke was surprised to see them here as they were anything but outcasts. They greeted Valentine warmly enough and Wayland seemed quite sincere in his concern. Valentine smiled his beatific smile and seemed genuinely delighted to have found like-minded individuals.

Luke stuck close to Valentine, but he did keep shooting glances over to Jocelyn. She was almost always surrounded by a few Shadowhunters and they laughed while she gesticulated.

Eventually Valentine stood up to speak and call the meeting to a close.

"It is our sacred duty to protect the world from demons. The Mundanes are completely ignorant of the danger that faces them. The Council hoards the power when we should be trying to increase the number of defenders."

Jocelyn's clear voice cut in from the back of the room. "I'm confused, aren't we protecting the _Mundanes_ from demons? Because if so, how will turning them all into soldiers protect them?"

As the Shadowhunters turned to look at her she adopted a military pose and gave an over the top saluted. "Here's a Seraph blade, there's the demons, now go defend the…um…the…world, yes! Go defend the world. Those rocks can't protect themselves, you know! Unless _they_ drink from the Mortal Cup, too."

There were quite a few snickers and a couple of the newer members laughed outright.

"Very amusing, Jocelyn. But surely it is only fair to give the Mundanes a chance to defend _themselves_ and their families."

"Until those families are old enough to fight too," Jocelyn added.

A few of the Circle members were mumbling to themselves. Valentine's expression didn't even flicker.

"I have killed a demon with the help of Lucian, my right hand. I have seen what their mere presence does to the very land itself. These beasts are foul and insidious. If we had the luxury of complacence then I would be agreeing with Jocelyn. After all she makes such an _amusing_ point. Tell me, have _you_ ever faced a demon, Jocelyn?"

"No, I-"

"I see," Valentine cut in smoothly. He left his speech at that. There was no need for him to continue.

The Circle gradually disbanded. The fervour seemed to have been restored a bit.

Valentine stayed back until the last member had left. Jocelyn gave him an ironic bow as she left. Valentine just smiled and waved. If he was annoyed he hid it well.

Eventually Luke turned to his teacher.

"If you don't mind me asking, why does Jocelyn bother you so much?" Luke queried.

Valentine started and turned to his student with a puzzled frown. "Bother? Why do you say that?"

Luke smiled. "I know you well enough to see the clues. It was the way your nostrils flared and your hands clenched slightly. I mean you didn't even show that level of anger in class when they were spouting all that Council propaganda under the guise of 'history'. But when Jocelyn made a remark and the Circle laughed…" Luke shrugged.

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "Very perceptive of you, Lucian. What Jocelyn does is far more dangerous than the ravings of even the most dedicated fanatic. She makes people laugh. If people start laughing at the Circle then it loses power and it loses respect. The Circle is held together by fear and reverence. People fear for the fate of the Nephilim and they revere the sacred duty. Without those elements the Circle crumbles and nothing, _nothing_, undermines like laughter." Valentine's eyes were flashing by the time he finished speaking.

Luke had to refrain from taking a step back and had the uncharitable thought that it wasn't just fear for the future of the Nephilim that kept the Circle in line.

Valentine sighed. "I apologise for the outburst, but I had hoped to recruit Jocelyn as an ally but it is proving more difficult than I had anticipated."

"Jocelyn makes fun of you because she doesn't know what you're really like. All she sees is cold, calculated perfection. I know that there's more to you, but she doesn't. Try showing a little humanity and she might think differently."

Valentine's expression was inscrutable for a moment before breaking out into a genuine smile. "Thank you for the advice, Lucian. I sometimes forget that with her, I am dealing with someone nearly as arrogant as myself."

He gave a deprecating little grin. Luke laughed. "Don't worry, Valentine. I don't think anyone, let alone Jocelyn, could resist your charms forever."

Valentine smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 9_

Valentine paced in his room. Such an obvious sign of discomfort was rare for him, but in his eyes, the situation warranted it. He had two problems. Firstly and most importantly, he had become too damn possessive of his protégé.

This was the last thing he had expected, and he berated himself for not considering the possibility. He _knew_ that physical relationships made people irrational, but he had never thought that _he_ would succumb. He growled under his breath. This was the last time that he would overestimate himself.

This revelation had presented itself when he had seen Lucian talking to Jocelyn. He knew that Lucian lusted after her and when he saw them talking together… at least he had controlled himself. He had wanted to pull Lucian right back and give Jocelyn a warning look, but that would have been…unwise. After all, he still required Jocelyn, no matter how irritating she was.

Valentine grimaced. Jocelyn was the other problem. Without fail, whenever he was at his most persuasive she would cut in with her acidic little comments and sarcastic remarks. It was hard enough keeping a group of apathetic teenagers at an appropriate level of fervour without someone trying to mock him.

He would take Lucian's advice and show some humanity. He was sure that it wouldn't pose any difficulty. A few confessions of weakness and strain, and maybe letting his control slip in front of her. That sort of thing should be more than enough to convince Jocelyn that he was human, that he was _vulnerable_.

The only problem was thinking of a believable weakness or two. In his own mind it just seemed so inherently implausible that he should have a weakness. He shrugged. He would think of something and she would see what he wanted her to.

He tore his thoughts away from Jocelyn. He was avoiding his more immediate problem. He had wanted Lucian as his most trusted right hand and now he found that the most imperative part of that was now a matter of simply wanting him.

Such strong desires for possession and control undermined his detached frame of mind. That was never a good thing. If Jocelyn's acerbic comments proved anything, it was that emotion always had the strength to undermine rationality.

In the end, the only logical step was to seek out Lucian and try and confront the problem head on. With a sigh directed at the general injustice of the universe, Valentine sought out the focus of his concern.

(-)

The door to Lucian's room was ajar. "Lucian?" Valentine called softly before pushing the door wider.

Lucian was lying on top of the covers and reading a thick book about the hierarchy of angels. Valentine recognised it as one that he had lent his student earlier. Lucian was wearing his soft sleeping attire and he gave Valentine such a bright, sincere smile when he entered the room.

Valentine forced down a rising sense of smugness and allowed his own smile to greet the other. He sat down on the bed and Lucian scrambled up to sit beside him. Valentine barely managed to keep a smirk off his face. This was the problem. Lucian's enthusiasm was just so enticing. How was he supposed to control himself when Lucian was so blatantly pleased by his attentions?

He enfolded the blue eyed teen in his arms.

_Mine, _he though to himself as he rested his head against Lucian's soft hair. Valentine felt a surge of hunger at the way Lucian seemed to melt into his embrace. The younger teen was just so willing. There was a heady sense of power and control. While Valentine didn't seek power as a primary goal, he conceded that it was… pleasant.

Lucian's lips parted instantly as Valentine sought his mouth. Valentine's lips curved into a smile even as claimed his student's eager mouth. The delightful whimpers and the way Lucian's body responded so quickly set Valentine on fire.

He pushed the younger teen down with a half suppressed growl even as he berated himself for such an unrestrained action.

"Valentine," Lucian whispered.

Valentine swallowed the desire to take him right then. He had to control himself! With infinite patience and every nerve humming with self-control, he let his hands slip under Lucian's shirt and stroke down his chest and sides.

Lucian was not helping the situation with his writhing and breathy pants, and the way he was arching went beyond distracting. Allowing himself a moment's indulgence, Valentine let his lips brush against his student's neck. He soon found himself licking and nipping at the flesh, just to see how Lucian would react.

The dark haired teen would tilt his back in unquestioning compliance and it was probably involuntary too. Valentine groaned and was appalled at his unthinking response.

"Please, Valentine, please," Lucian was murmuring and Valentine realised with a start that he had been stroking the other's inner thigh. He hadn't even remembered removing the remainder of Lucian's clothes

With a snarl of frustration Valentine gave into himself once again, deciding that there would be time to sort this out later. He had more pressing concerns right now.

He began to prepare Lucian and stared at the way his student responded to such intimate contact. His flushed cheeks and parted lips were enticing and the way his wiry chest rose and fell with each sharp breath was just… perfect.

Valentine did not delude himself with notions of control when slid inside his student's body. Lucian was moaning low in his throat and his hands were clutching tightly at Valentine's well muscled shoulders and taut back. Valentine's own hands gripped the bed sheets, knowing that if he transferred his grip to flesh, he would be holding hard enough to bruise.

Valentine always noticed the details. He drank in every aspect, from Lucian's legs wrapped tightly around his waist, to the desperate sounds he coaxed from his recumbent student.

Then Lucian cried out and Valentine had to bite his lip to stifle his own shout as Lucian tensed in pleasure. There was no way to resist such a powerful sensation, not even for Valentine, and he shuddered violently.

At least control returned quickly after the act itself. Valentine tasted his blood on the inside of his lip and resolved not to kiss Lucian just yet. He withdrew and stretched out beside his student. Lucian immediately snuggled up to him and Valentine didn't even try to hide his self-satisfied smirk. It was dark and Lucian wasn't even facing him.

Valentine lay with his arms wrapped around Lucian and listened as the rhythm of his breathing evened out. He looked peaceful when he slept. Valentine liked to think that it had something to do with his presence.

Lucian shifted in his sleep and Valentine found his arms tightening involuntarily. He sighed softly. Even the way he held his student was possessive. Perhaps Lucian was a luxury that he should use in moderation. There was nothing to be gained from excess. He consoled himself with the knowledge that Lucian had been too lost in sensation to dredge up anything precise.

He slipped out of bed and headed for his own rooms. He had classes earlier than his student so he was sure that his absence would be understood.

(-)

He had stripped down and was lying in bed when he heard a knock on his door. His brow furrowed and he wondered if Lucian had come after him. The knock was tentative, but it lacked his student's rhythm.

"Enter," he called. He got out of bed and threw on a loose shirt.

His demonology lecturer, and incidentally his favourite teacher, entered his room with two members of the Council flanking him. Valentine kept the snarl off his face by sheer force of will.

"Can I help you?" he asked in icy tones as he eyed the intrusive Councillors.

"Valentine, I have some news for you. You might want to sit down," his teacher began.

"I'd rather stand," Valentine replied stiffly.

"As you wish. It's about your father."

Valentine felt himself grow cold. His face stayed blank. "What about my father?"

"As you know he was participating in a routine raid on a werewolf encampment. They had broken the Accords-"

"_Get to the_ _point_." Each syllable was delivered with precision, in the same wintry tones.

"He is dead. He died in the sacred duty."

Valentine sat. For several minutes he was utterly motionless.

"Valentine…?" his teacher asked hesitantly.

The youth raised his dark eyes. Even in the low light they seemed to shine.

"Get out." His voice was barely above a whisper but all three adults retreated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters this is probably a **T**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 10_

Luke's eyes flickered as the morning light hit them. He rolled over and found a space in his bed where he had expected to find Valentine. It was not a pleasant discovery. His forehead creased as he tried to remember what classes his teacher had. Luke was not at his best in the morning.

After a while he gave up with a shrug and hauled himself out of bed. He had a morning practice session with blades. Even with Valentine's help, the blade or any close range weapon was not his speciality. However he did look forward to the fact that he would be sharing the class with Jocelyn. As long as he didn't have to spar against her directly, especially in the morning, it would be okay.

He stumbled away from the sleeping area and out into the practice yard. Breakfast would come after, when the risk of being whacked in the stomach was negligible rather than certain. He blinked in the harsh morning light and muttered some unsavoury things under his breath.

He got there a little late and groaned to himself. Everyone was partnered up already, everyone except Jocelyn that is. Although most of the class sought her attention, no one was stupid enough to partner her of their own free will. She looked positively cheerful to have someone to bludgeon with a wooden practice sword for a few hours. Great.

He resigned himself to the bruises that she'd give him and decided that maybe getting to talk between blows would be adequate compensation. At least neither she, nor any of the other Shadowhunters in training, could best him with a crossbow.

Closer up, Jocelyn didn't look as cheerful as Luke had assumed. She had a certain distracted air that bordered on worry. Luke hesitated over rewarding her inattention by giving her a good thump with his practice sword, but then decided that was unlikely to help the situation.

"What's on your mind, Jocelyn?" He enquired.

"Hmm?" She turned to him with the same pensive expression. "I'm worried about Valentine."

That simple statement had the awakening effect of a cold shower and several cups of coffee on the dark haired teen. He tried to quell a rising sense of panic.

"What about him?"

"As you may know, he and I had lecture on the nature of Idris earlier this morning, but he wasn't in class. It's probably nothing, but for as long as I've known him, he's never missed a single lesson, even when he's sick."

Luke took some calming breaths. Maybe Valentine had overslept after last night's activities. The notion made Luke feel guilty, but somewhat pleased.

"I'll see if he's in his room after this. I'm sure it's nothing," he asserted.

Jocelyn nodded and raised her practice sword. Luke prepared himself for the inevitable onslaught.

After the lesson was over, Luke limped to Valentine's room. Distracted or not, Jocelyn had still thrashed him. He knocked at the door and waited. There was no reply. He fidgeted for a moment before knocking again. When there was still no reply fourth coming, his heart began to beat a little faster.

He told himself that it was nothing and that he had obviously just missed Valentine. He consoled himself that he would see his teacher at breakfast and laugh at his own paranoia. However he had an indefinable feeling that something was wrong and the adrenaline in his system didn't seem to dissipate. This was worrying because his instincts for discord were seldom wrong.

Valentine was not a breakfast. To Luke, it was more an unpleasant confirmation than a surprise. He began to interrogate the Circle. None of them seemed know anything useful. Hodge had been reading late and had thought he had seen someone leaving the grounds, but it could have been anyone.

Luke was guiltily pleased that Valentine hadn't confided in one of them, but his concern intensified. In desperation he asked Valentine's favourite teacher if he knew anything. The old Shadowhunter sighed and put down his spoon.

"Last night, Valentine received some… distressing news. If he isn't attending class that is quite understandable, I assure you."

"What sort of news?" Luke demanded.

"I don't know if it's my place to say anything, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

"Please tell me. Please, I'm worried about him. I know you're his favourite teacher."

There was another sigh from the demonology lecturer. "Well it isn't really a secret, I suppose. Valentine's father was killed in a routine raid. Your friend is probably just mourning. He seemed quite distraught when he found out."

Luke was stunned. He took a seat and stared at his breakfast. The news would have hit Valentine hard. He begged for the rest of the day off and his request was grudgingly fulfilled due to his usual work ethic. He didn't want to have to explain things. It would feel like breaking confidence.

Luke spent the day worrying and ruminating in his room. He finally fell asleep in the early evening. His dreams were filled with half remembered deaths.

The next morning Luke was spared the task of explaining to the Circle and Jocelyn what had happened. The news had gotten out over dinner while he had been in his room. Valentine's father had been a well respected Shadowhunter. People often claimed that Valentine had taken after him in terms of prowess and dedication.

There was no word from Valentine at all. The Circle still met out of habit, but most of the time was spent theorising on where Valentine was and what he was doing. The majority assumed he had gone for vengeance and intended to take on the entire werewolf pack by himself. Others insisted that he was holding his own private funeral or some sort of vigil.

Jocelyn refused to take part in the conjecture and Luke was grateful for it. It was disrespectful for them to play their little guessing games and Luke soon stopped attending the meetings altogether.

Luke was dejected. He worried about Valentine constantly and couldn't focus on his studies. The rest of the Circle was cautious around him. They treated him like glass that was liable to shatter and probably injure others in the process. Jocelyn tried to be understanding and Luke's obvious discomfort moved her to sympathy, but Luke was inconsolable.

(-)

It was a full week before Valentine returned. Luke had been dozing fitfully in his room when he was woken by the sound of someone entering. He vaulted to his feet when he recognised who it was.

"Valentine, are you-" he begun.

His teacher held up hand for silence.

"Lucian."

Luke scrutinised his teacher and was troubled by what he saw. Valentine looked haggard. He was too pale and clearly hadn't had much sleep or even food by the look of him. There was a familiar fire in his eyes, but now it seemed to burn cold. Even his usually smooth voice was rough.

Luke hesitated. He wanted to embrace his teacher and offer what comfort he could, but Valentine didn't look like he would appreciate the contact. The older teen took a step forward and Luke felt the absurd desire to take a step back.

"I want you, Lucian. Now."

"Of- of course. Are you sure you're okay though?" Luke was getting a little nervous.

Valentine gave his student a feral grin. "No. But you need not concern yourself, yet."

Two more steps and Valentine was right beside him. Luke swallowed. Now he was really worried about Valentine.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 11_

Valentine's proximity was unsettling, but nonetheless, Luke felt the stirrings of arousal. His teacher's fingers threaded through his dark hair and wrenched his head back. Luke stifled a whimper and felt lips descend onto his own. He obviously wasn't responding fast enough because Valentine bit down on his lip. Luke yelped and Valentine's tongue gained access to the younger teen's mouth.

Luke surrendered and allowed Valentine to savage his mouth. Valentine was demanding and insatiable. His teacher slid an arm around his waist and yanked him forward. Valentine ground against him and Luke felt a tingling sensation whenever they touched.

The next moment Valentine was tugging at his shirt. Luke tried his best to assist and began to pull ineffectually at Valentine's long sleeved, high necked garment. His teacher seemed oblivious to his touch, but after a while tore his own off with a snarl.

Luke gasped and backed up until he hit the bed. Valentine had covered his torso and arms in the red Marks of mourning. They twined over his smooth skin like venomous snakes. While it was common practice to draw a red Mark like an armband or scrawl a symbol on the neck or shoulder to honour the deceased, this was… excessive.

The red Marks that the stele was capable of producing during troubled times, burned far more intensely than ordinary Marks. They lasted for weeks and only the most determined Shadowhunters could produce them.

Luke tried to disregard the dangerous glint in Valentine's eyes and spoke.

"Valentine, you are clearly suffering, please, just talk to me."

Luke saw his teacher try to compose himself. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained to the extent that Luke worried that his teacher might pull a tendon, or even snap one.

Valentine took a deep breath that was more a drawn out pant. His eyes closed for a moment as his chest rose and fell sharply. When his eyes snapped open, he pinned his student with his gaze. He addressed Luke through gritted teeth.

"Please Lucian, talk later. I need this. I need _you_."

The last was uttered as Valentine closed the gap between them once more. Luke swallowed. "Anything you need, Valentine. You know that."

Valentine nodded and with the utmost tenderness brushed a few stray hairs out of Luke's face. Valentine's hand was shaking. Luke gripped Valentine's hand and placed it back on his hip. Valentine smiled, but his expression was far from beatific.

Valentine bore Luke down to the bed behind them. Luke's pants were yanked off without preamble. Despite his concern for Valentine and the tiny spark of fear that he refused to admit, Luke was noticeably aroused.

The preparation was rough and hurried. Luke tried desperately to relax. When Valentine pushed into him he gasped. The pain was worse than his first time, but it was bearable and there was pleasure too. Valentine slammed into him repeatedly but somehow managed to hit the right spot more often than not. Luke was grateful for the distraction. Valentine had never been this brutal before.

When his teacher finished, the cry that tore from his lips made Luke shudder. The sound contained an edge of pain and fury that made Luke ache with sympathy.

Valentine withdrew and collapsed on top of his student. Luke had not been able to derive his usual enjoyment from Valentine's movements and shifted to prevent his arousal from disturbing the other.

Even in his current state, Valentine was alert and it didn't take him long to realise. He raised himself up until he was kneeling between Luke's legs. His head tilted to one side as his eyes swept over his student. Luke felt more than a little self-conscious. Then to his utter astonishment Valentine shifted downwards and took him in his mouth. Luke cried out in surprise.

Valentine clearly hadn't had his fill of ferocity. He sucked hard and quickly, the sensations overwhelming the younger teen beneath him. Valentine drew back just at the edge and gave Luke a few firm strokes and ran his nails down his inner thigh. Luke spilled over Valentine's hand and his own stomach. Only then did Valentine stretch out beside him.

Luke remained still. The silenced stretched and his concern became too strong to hold back.

"Do you want to talk?" he hazarded.

The silence stretched further. Luke tried not to fidget.

"Perhaps," came the reply.

"Where did you go?" Luke prompted.

"Away. I needed time to myself. For this." Valentine indicated the red Marks of mourning that adorned his body. Luke swallowed as he remembered his own distaste for the normal Marks.

"There was a funeral…" Luke began.

"You wouldn't have found me there. I was… elsewhere at the time. I held my own ceremony."

Luke nodded. It made sense, he supposed. If Valentine wanted time away from people the official funeral was the last place he'd go.

"You didn't put yourself in any… danger, did you?" Luke hedged.

"If you are asking whether I went to hunt down those rabid, demon tainted dogs, then no. I was not suicidal. But they will pay. Them, and every other demonic tainted creature will be cleansed from this earth!"

Valentine sprung out of bed and began to stalk up and down the length of the room.

"I was wrong. It isn't just demons that need to be hunted down. Every creature with even a dorp of demonic corruption in them must be killed! They cannot be trusted!" He seethed.

At the apex of his route Valentine sunk his fist into the wall in front of him. His knuckles split against the unyielding stone and he left a red smear of blood. He didn't seem to notice, but the rage dissipated and he sank back down on to the bed.

"I'm done talking for now."

Luke just nodded, wide eyed.

Valentine sighed. "I am grateful for your concern, Lucian. Truly. Your loyalty means a lot to me."

The words delighted Luke and he scrambled up to sit beside Valentine. He winced as the movement brought a stab of pain. Valentine gave him a sad, apologetic smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Lucian. The grief…"

"I understand, Valentine. It's okay. You're not yourself."

Valentine's smile twisted slightly at the corner.

"Indeed," he sighed. "I should probably make my presence known to the rest. I came here first, you know. Not even the teachers know of my return."

Luke felt giddy with happiness. Valentine had come to him before all others.

"I certainly don't relish the explanations," Valentine continued with a certain level of distaste.

"You could stay here tonight. I think you've missed dinner as it is and this way you can rest before you have to appear."

Valentine tilted his head and regarded his student. "That would be good, Lucian. Are you sure? I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Luke ducked his head. "Well, maybe being here will help," he mumbled to the floor.

Valentine lifted his chin and gave his student a soft kiss. "Maybe you're right, Lucian," he conceded with an inscrutable smile on his lips.

(-)

Luke accompanied Valentine to breakfast, but took a seat a little distance from his teacher. Valentine needed some time to reacquaint himself and Luke didn't want to be questioned by the others.

Valentine took a seat in the middle of a cluster of Circle members. Their talk ceased and they scrutinised Valentine as he calmly buttered a piece of toast. Only after he had taken some small bites and a few sips of water, did he speak.

"There will be a meeting tomorrow after lunch. Kindly save any questions until then," he announced.

There was a moment of awkward silence before the Circle members broke out into long-winded and emotive condolences. Valentine was very gracious about it, but Luke could see how tense his jaw was and the way his nostrils flared.

"Thank you all, but I feel I must take some time to finish my breakfast in some degree of solitude."

The Circle recognised the cue and trooped off. Valentine marginally relaxed and began to eat ravenously. Only after he had finished his second plateful of food did Jocelyn approach him.

"He was a great Shadowhunter, Valentine. The ranks of the Nephilim will be thinner without his presence," she murmured by way of simple commiseration.

Valentine looked up from his breakfast and Luke noticed the way his expression softened slightly.

"Thank you, Jocelyn. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, but I appreciate the sentiment." Jocelyn smiled sadly and gave Valentine's shoulder a pat. Luke was under the impression that any other Circle member, barring himself of course, would have lost a hand. However Valentine covered Jocelyn's hand with his and gave her a smile that mirrored her own.

Jocelyn looked down and continued on her way with a muttered excuse. Valentine watched her as she left and Luke couldn't decipher the look in his eye, but had to quell a jolt of concern.

He got up and slid into a seat beside Valentine. His teacher looked up with a smile.

"You were right, Lucian, I did sleep better."

Luke blushed slightly and turned his attention to his own plate.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters, this is probably a **K+**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 12_

Luke stayed very close to Valentine during the Circle meeting. He didn't even bother thinking up an excuse, but simple shadowed him.

Valentine decided to speak at the very beginning like he used to at the Circle's formation. Luke assumed that it was to avoid answering the same questions multiple times. His teacher didn't display any of his Marks and kept them hidden under long shirts.

Once everyone had arrived Valentine took his place at the front and waited for the customary complete silence. He took a deep breath and let his gaze wander over the members. His gaze alighted briefly on Jocelyn how had made one of her rare appearances. Luke prayed that she wouldn't open her mouth. Valentine did not need that right now.

Finally Valentine spoke.

"As you know, I was mourning and I chose to do so privately. There is nothing more to say about the matter. However there is a matter now very close to my heart that I must share with you all. The culprits who slaughtered my father still live. I refer not only to the werewolves that committed the deed itself, but to every demon tainted Downworlder, every faerie and every demon.

"I mean this with all sincerity, that I group these monsters _together_ under a clear heading. Inhuman. Tainted. Evil. There can be no truce, no surrender. We are Shadowhunters. _Shadow_ _Hunters_. It is our sacred duty to hunt down and eliminate the shadows in our world."

Valentine was breathing heavily by the time he had finished. His eyes burned with righteous fire.

There was a stunned silence in the wake of his speech. Finally, one of the newer members spoke up. "What about the Accords?"

There was some muttering and Luke swallowed. Valentine rounded on the hapless individual. His face was calm and his voice was even, but ever syllable dripped menace. "The Accords did not protect my father."

Silence reigned again.

Finally one of Wayland's friends addressed the room. "I agree with Valentine. My own family has lost an uncle and a cousin to filthy Downworlders. The creatures cannot be trusted. I'm also pretty sure that my family's not the only one."

There was some nodding around the room.

Maryse interjected. "Aren't vampires and Werewolves just people inflicted with incurable infernal diseases? At the least they should be quarantined, at most they should be put out of their misery."

There was some more nodding.

"Faeries are the offspring of an angel and a demon. How is that anything but appalling and unholy? They can't stand the taste of cold iron. Is there any stronger proof that they are evil and unnatural? They want to drag the poor Mundanes back to the Dark Ages, back to the Stone Age even," spat Robert.

There were some cheers and a few agreements. A few members of the Circle turned to look at Jocelyn. Luke held his breath. He noticed that Valentine's eyes were riveted on her.

She shrugged before she spoke. "Personally I think demons are the biggest problem. I don't know much about Downworlders per se, but I think a lot of you might think differently if you became infected with one of those 'infernal diseases'. However, I certainly agree that any one of them that breaks the Accords should be brought to justice. "

This time the eyes turned to Valentine. Luke tried to gauge his teacher's expression.

Finally, with his expression hard but non-menacing, Valentine nodded.

"I would not seek to break the Accords myself. That would make us no better than them. But at all times and in all things, we must remember that they, like the demons that helped create them, cannot be trusted."

This time applause broke out. It started slowly amongst those who had spoken, but eventually the room rang with the sound.

(-)

After the speech Luke noticed that Valentine did not make his usual circuit of the group. There was some animated discussion in the Circle, but Valentine held himself apart and brooded.

Thankfully no one pressed him about his absence or offered any more condolences. However his teacher did receive a few odd looks. Luke stuck close to him and glared at anyone who seemed on the verge of approaching.

When Jocelyn approached, however, he gave her a slight nod. Luke wanted to thank her for her lack of sarcastic comments. With this strange mood infected Valentine, he didn't know how well his teacher would have handled it.

Jocelyn returned the nod, but made her way to Valentine's side. She stopped just outside the radius of personal space that Valentine seemed to project.

"I called the meeting to an end," she murmured.

Luke realised that people had in fact begun to file out. With his attention focused on Valentine, he hadn't noticed. From the way Valentine registered no surprise, Luke assumed that even in this state, nothing escaped his teacher's awareness.

"I don't like to think that you have that much authority, Jocelyn, but I understand the reason. Thank you."

Luke was surprised at the sympathy he saw in Jocelyn's eyes. To him, she had always appeared unflappable and seemed to float above everyday concerns. She also displayed a surprising level of warmth at Valentine's sincere thank you.

Luke was quite pleased that they were finally getting along, rather than trying to fight each other. Valentine was right about how important Jocelyn's membership was to the Circle and he was utterly relieved that Jocelyn had stopped mocking Valentine.

There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of how Jocelyn had put her hand on Valentine's shoulder at breakfast, but he decided that he was just being paranoid. After all, Valentine did the same sort of thing to Circle members when he felt that they needed support.

While Valentine and Jocelyn smiled at each other and Luke let his thoughts wander, a young Shadowhunter, who was new to the Circle approached. Luke instantly sensed trouble when he saw how the youth strutted. He tensed.

"I think you're being ridiculous, Valentine. I can understand where some of these extreme view points come from and in the right light some of your arguments seem quite valid. But hunting Downworlders for the sake of it isn't just a waste of resources it is downright immoral," the young Shadowhunter addressed Valentine.

Valentine sprang up with a snarl on his face. "Moral! You _dare_ question me about morality after what happened to my father! It proves that they cannot be trusted. Do you have a Downworlder in your family perhaps, some tainted little creature that you're trying to protect?" Valentine roared. He took a step toward the hapless Shadowhunter and Luke recognised the warning signs of imminent violence.

The youth belatedly realised his mistake and tried to back away.

"Valentine," Jocelyn cautioned and put a hand on his arm.

Valentine froze and slowly turned his attention to the hand on his arm and then let his eyes sweep up the arm to Jocelyn's face.

"Yes?" he asked in a perfectly restrained voice.

"You don't want to alienate new members of your fan club, now do you? Besides he's gone now and he probably understood your point."

They stood in a frozen tableau for a moment and Luke was sure that Valentine would do something he'd regret. Then, inexplicably, the anger drained from Valentine and he reigned himself back in.

"You have a point," he conceded. "I am not myself."

"Grief does strange things to people. I know that you're carrying a lot of pain."

Valentine nodded.

Luke's mouth had gone dry. He always knew that Jocelyn was courageous. For a moment there, Luke had been afraid of what Valentine might have done and he didn't dare interfere with his teacher. He was glad that Jocelyn was there to calm him.

(-)

(-)

**Author's Note: **Well it's going to be Valentine's Day on Sunday, so in honour of that, I'm going to write a stand alone oneshot about the day itself and this Valentine/Luke pairing. It will be **M**.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 13_

Luke had the horrible feeling in the pit of his gut that he had somehow disappointed his teacher. Valentine was always on edge these days and the slightest defiance resulted in consuming rage. Fortunately, Luke had yet to be on the receiving end of these violent mood swings, but he found himself unable to intervene when Valentine was hounding others.

When he tried distracting his raging teacher he would only receive icy looks or half-stifled snarls. These responses no longer generated any fear in him. Luke knew that on some level Valentine was trying to shield him from the worst of his anger. However, it didn't stop the dark haired teen from feeling utterly useless.

The only one who seemed capable of calming Valentine was Jocelyn. Luke felt a hot spike of envy at the thought of how easily she seemed to relax him. It was only a few words or a touch and suddenly Valentine seemed serene, or at least made a monumental effort to reign himself in.

Luke had also never seen a spark of fear in Jocelyn's eyes, even when Valentine was at his worst. Luke knew that the envy was beneath him and that the jealous paranoia was even worse, but he couldn't help it. The fact that he still felt for Jocelyn didn't help matters, especially when it produced a simultaneous flush of guilt and giddiness.

Luke shook his head. He needed to clear his thoughts because he had decided to confront Valentine. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to confront Valentine with, but there would be something. Even with the fury, Luke had been growing in confidence as his training and in his relationship with Valentine improved.

He knocked at his teacher's door and desperately wished for a more neutral ground, or even his own territory. He also fervently hoped that he would have the strength to force the moment to its crisis.

He heard a muffled assent from within and pushed open the door. Valentine was sitting at his desk and reading. There were no shoes or socks on his feet and his attire was slightly rumpled. However, his back was perfectly straight in his chair. He picked up a bookmark with graceful fingers and marked his place before turning to his student.

"How can help you, Lucian?"

Luke's mouth was suddenly dry and he cleared his throat.

"I wanted to talk about some things."

Valentine nodded courteously. Luke fidgeted as he weighed the merits of sitting down on the bed or remaining standing. He opted for standing and tried to be still. He took a deep breath.

"I wanted to talk about Jocelyn. I know that the grief is hard for you, but a lot of the Circle members and even our teachers don't deserve the way you snap at them. You told me how important it was not to alienate them and while you said that fear was important, it is fear _for_ the Nephilim, not fear _of_ you.

"I can't seem to help when you are overcome. Jocelyn can calm you so easily and I just get in the way. I want to know why. I want to know how and most of all I want to know if I've done anything wrong."

Luke was panting by the time he finished. He had meant to be more articulate, but everything had sort of spilled out. He wasn't as good at hiding stuff and organising his thoughts as Valentine and he certainly wasn't as good a speaker.

Luke risked a glance at his teacher. Valentine's eyes had widened and Luke couldn't remember if he had ever seen his teacher so surprised. Valentine rose from his chair and padded over. Luke's heartbeat increased at the proximity and he gulped.

"Lucian, I don't think that I have ever found you calming. You set me on fire."

Luke shivered at the intensity words.

"Jocelyn makes me pause and think because I am still trying to recruit her as a proper ally rather than someone who stands at the edge of my Circle. You have more influence over me than she does. I know that I am not always myself and I want to protect you from the worst of it," Valentine continued.

Luke remembered how Valentine had been in the past few days. Valentine still wanted to sleep with him, but the rage was always simmering under the surface. Valentine was harsh. He never went so far as to cause any damage, but Luke was always very quick to comply with any demands and tried not to give Valentine a reason to be angry.

He vividly remembered the rough way that Valentine sought to part his legs. He remembered the glint in his dark eyes whenever he ran his hands over Luke's frame. Luke also remembered the bruises. He wasn't even sure that Valentine was aware of what he was doing half the time. His eyes were often glazed in way that was partly from lust, but also from something else. Luke nearly blushed as he recalled that even such treatment had been insufficient to dampen his arousal, or enjoyment for that matter.

Still whenever Valentine entered him, even brutally, all it took was a few whispered words of endearment or a light caress and Luke could see Valentine beneath the anger and pain. Even afterwards, after the teeth and nails and the sheer force of Valentine's strength, his teacher would still wrap his arms about him and Luke would instantly feel safe.

Luke snapped back to the present. "I can handle it, Valentine. If it's you, I can handle it."

"I have no doubt of that. Will you forgive my vanity for wanting you to see me in a certain way?"

"Vain!? You're not… well maybe a little…sometimes. But there's nothing to forgive, it's just that I sometimes I get a little… funny."

Valentine smiled his beatific smile and Luke felt himself returning it. Then he looked down remembering one final item that he needed to say.

"I have to ask, for my own sanity. Are you and Jocelyn… do you intend… what's going on with you two?"

Valentine sighed and sat back down.

"I am not going to lie to you. My pain is the humanising element that you had mentioned before as a way to get through to her. She sympathises with me now and her usual scorn and suspicion are heavily diluted with compassion. I think she may be falling for me in a way that is not entirely platonic."

Luke tried to swallow and nearly choked.

"So?" he began, dreading the continuation.

"Lucian, you are my right hand, my sword arm and nothing is going to change that. I know you care for her so it is hard to guess whether that makes this easier or harder. I do care for her in a way, but to put things bluntly, for the sake of the Nephilim I intend to breed. I am beginning to think that on some level she acknowledges this too."

"But –" Luke began but Valentine forestalled him with a raised hand.

"I do not yet have strong feelings toward her beyond attraction and a certain admiration. She does not affect me the way you do and I wouldn't want her to. At the same time, I believe that she is beginning to have strong feelings toward me," Valentine finished.

Luke's mind had gone blank. He seized on the first thing that made sense.

"You want to breed?"

"Eventually. Not for a while."

"With Jocelyn?"

"She is a fine Shadowhunter and I do care for her," came the measured reply.

"Nothing will change about me being your right hand?"

"No. I do not intend to do anything of a significant physical nature with Jocelyn without marriage."

Luke gaped. "Really? Why the hell not?" he blurted.

Valentine smiled. "It isn't out of some misplaced sense of virtue, it so the issue is not confused. Between us."

"You mean to say that we will…continue, even as you start to court Jocelyn. Do you think she'll be okay with that or are you going to lie to her? Then what is going to happen once you marry?"

"Lucian, these things with Jocelyn aren't going to happen until we are of an age where it will become suitable. I hope that she will understand."

"And after you marry?"

Valentine sighed. "Our relationship is more than physical, Lucian. It will continue in one form or another and we will be as close as ever. I do not see how Jocelyn could object to that. After all, you two possess a friendship."

Luke nodded, feeling mildly ill.

"I will talk to her if it will put your mind at ease," Valentine offered.

"If it's okay, I would rather talk to her myself."

Valentine raised an eyebrow but nodded. "As you wish."

He didn't question and he didn't doubt. Luke knew that most people, himself included, would not like their lover talking to their potential wife. Especially if there was some unrequited attraction and a friendship between the two. But Valentine wasn't most people, and Luke knew that he was trusted.

He set off to find Jocelyn.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters, this is probably a **T**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 14_

Valentine pondered his difficulty with Lucian and Jocelyn as his student left his room. Most of what he had said had been true, or at least true enough. He had been struggling with this notion of how to be assured of Lucian's continued loyalty while still achieving his goal with Jocelyn.

It was true that he had a certain level of attraction to Jocelyn and he did admire her in as much as he was capable of admiring someone other than himself, but she was not Lucian.

He scowled at the thought. He knew he was being ridiculous. Lucian made him lose control. Lucian brought out his desire to own and possess. These were not things that should be encouraged. He told himself that it was necessary in order to assure Lucian's unwavering support, even as he realised that he was making excuses for himself.

Now he had the problem of Jocelyn to contend with. It had taken an inordinate amount of time, but she was finally succumbing to him. He needed her to produce offspring and he intended to produce Shadowhunters the like of which had never graced Idris.

Part of him was worried. It was not an emotion that he was used to feeling in relation to others. Valentine worried that he would lose himself with her the way he lost himself with Lucian. He idly wondered if it was a problem he would grow out of as he matured.

In an ideal world, the physical side of relationships would not interfere with rationality and he could be free to pursue both Lucian and Jocelyn. Then again, in an ideal world he would be leading the Nephilim into a Golden Age of demon cleansing.

In an ideal world his father would still be alive. The thought was sudden and it struck him like a blow. Valentine felt his lips peeling back from his teeth and a growl rise in his throat. His hand shifted to the absent blade at his hip. He wanted a demon and he wanted to _kill_ it. The red Marks beneath his clothes seemed to burn in response to his anger.

He wrenched his thoughts back to present and pressed his palms against his desk until his breathing slowed to normal. He could hear his heart thudding in his ears and much to his horror he felt himself choke back a sob. He knew that such a lapse would not have occurred if there had been company. Part of him seemed to think that it was okay to show weakness when he was alone. The majority of him disagreed.

He turned his thoughts back to his main problem, the problem that he had some level of control over. He wondered whether the friendship between his Lucian and Jocelyn would allow some sort of accommodation. He knew that Jocelyn would disapprove of his interest in her genetic makeup, despite the fact that he also felt things for her as an autonomous individual, a person in her own right, etc. People were unreasonably touchy about those sorts of things.

He wondered how Lucian was faring with his future wife

(-)

"Jocelyn," Luke called.

She paused in her progression down the hall and turned him with a bright smile.

"Hi, Luke. Is this about another meeting?" she asked.

"No, I just wanted to talk to you."

She tilted her head to the side. "Shoot."

Luke leaned against a wall and tried to organise his thoughts the way Valentine might.

"I wanted to talk about Valentine."

"Big surprise," she laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jocelyn raised a hand and began ticking off her fingers as she spoke. "One, you follow him around like a stray puppy. Two, he keeps calling you his right hand and insists on your presence by his side during the Circle meetings. Three, well, with the looks you give him I wouldn't be surprised if you were more than friends and four, Valentine has probably mentioned something because he looks at you like you're an all you can eat buffet and he's been fasting for a week."

Luke blinked. Then he suppressed the desire to laugh or scream by sheer force of will.

"I see," he replied calmly. He decided that was probably the way Valentine would have responded. The desire to have hysterics rose in him again.

Jocelyn gave a quick laugh at, what Luke could only assume was, his expression.

"He likes you," Luke suddenly blurted.

"Now what do you mean by that? I was under the impression that he liked you and hence, probably liked males."

"He likes you too?" Luke added lamely.

Jocelyn gave him a long, hard look. "Well I had certainly noticed something like that, but I thought I was just seeing what I wanted to see." Jocelyn's expression instantly flipped into panic.

"Sorry, Luke. I didn't mean to say it like that. I mean he's cute and all, but if you two…"

Luke swallowed and gave Jocelyn a brittle smile. "It's okay, Jocelyn. I well… you know how dedicated to the cause Valentine is and I think he really likes you…"

"Luke, I'm not going to let you try and stand aside like this. It's easy to see how much he means to you. We're basically friends, but even an outsider could see that you have a streak of martyrdom. Besides, the way you look at him… it looks like more than lust."

Luke closed his eyes momentarily.

"Maybe," he murmured.

Jocelyn put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "I'm not going to try and come between you. I'm close to Valentine, but I know you're closer."

Luke was euphoric, but he knew that Valentine wouldn't leave it at that. He wanted Jocelyn for a reason, and when he had a reason, Valentine would move heaven and earth.

"It won't be that simple," Luke sighed. In Luke's perfect world there was a very simple solution that played itself out in his fantasies. Valentine liked him and Jocelyn, he like Valentine and Jocelyn… even if Jocelyn didn't reciprocate his feelings, Luke thought that it could still work out. He gave himself a surreptitious pinch before his mind could conjure up an image of the three of them entwined on Valentine's bed.

Luke cleared his throat and continued. "Valentine is persistent when he wants something and he clearly wants you."

"We'll see. As I said, I wouldn't want to strain things between Valentine and his right hand," she announced with a grin. "Whatever he thinks about me, he is clearly quite enamoured with you."

Luke tried to imagine Valentine being enamoured and failed.

"Something like that," he clarified. He licked his lips. "Um, thanks, Jocelyn. He, he does mean a lot to me and… just thanks, okay?"

"Anytime," she replied with a grin.

Luke sighed when Jocelyn had gone. Maybe things were going to work out. Even when Valentine did win Jocelyn over (Luke knew that would happen with complete certainty) he figured that she might turn a blind eye for his sake. There were basically friends, after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 15_

Luke stepped over the threshold of his room with a sigh. Valentine ghosted in behind him.

"It is a shame that we did not get to see one another between classes today," Valentine suggested.

Luke nodded. He was waiting for Valentine to ask him about his conversation with Jocelyn. Surely it was important to his teacher. He sat on the edge of his bed with a groan, feeling training-tightened muscles seize. There was slight tension when Valentine knelt behind him. He felt guilty about his reaction, but Valentine wasn't always himself these days and Luke had the bruises to prove it.

Then Valentine's hands were on him, working the knots from his shoulders. It was wonderful. Luke couldn't help but imagine that Valentine had learned this skill for its practical applications after training, but he didn't mind. It was hard to mind anything at that moment.

He shivered as he felt Valentine's breath against his ear. "Don't you stretch?" he asked.

Luke made an evasive noise. "Sometimes."

Valentine's resultant chuckle seemed to ignore Luke's ears and work exclusively down his spine. Valentine's hands mirrored the sensation only moments later.

"You should stretch before and after. At worst, hot water imparts some relaxation."

"Mhmm," Luke supplied, trying his best to focus on the sound of Valentine's voice with mixed results. Luke realised that his head was leaning back against Valentine's shoulder, but the older teen seemed content.

"I should tell you about Jocelyn," he murmured.

"Perhaps later. There are more… pressing considerations right now."

Luke couldn't agree more and found himself delighted by the notion of being so important to Valentine. Even in the lethargic state that Valentine's skilled fingers were driving him into, Luke still felt his heart beating rapidly.

Valentine's lips ghosted across Luke's jaw line and the side of his neck. Luke shivered and tilted his head slightly.

Valentine's finger moved from Luke's shoulders to slide down his sides and then up and under his shirt. The garment was removed.

Valentine hooked his fingers into the waistband of Luke's pants. "Get rid of these," he whispered.

Luke swallowed and almost tore off the rest of his clothes. When he turned his head around to see Valentine, he noted that his teacher had removed his own shirt. Both his eyes and the red Marks that still twined around his chest seemed to burn in the dim light. There was something undeniably predatory about the way that Valentine was watching him. Luke felt utterly exposed and vulnerable and completely aroused.

"Lie down," Valentine commanded in a voice that was far harsher than his usually smooth tones. Luke could tell that Valentine was trying to hold something back.

Luke stretched out on his back. Valentine was on top of him in an instant. Their lips crashed together at Valentine's behest. Luke groaned as his teacher's hands sought to pin his wrists above his head. Valentine shifted his weight and let his right hand hold both of Luke's. The younger teen did not even try to shift his position. He understood an unspoken command.

Valentine's free hand pulled Luke's legs apart and he gracefully settled between then. Rather than the usual dancer's grace that Valentine embodied, Luke found it akin to the grace a big cat might exhibit. It was all silky muscle and restrained hunger.

Luke felt preparation. It was rough, but sufficiently slick. The sensations jumbled together and Luke was eternally thankful that Valentine at least had presence of mind, even if Luke wasn't quite thinking.

Valentine entered him in one rapid movement. Luke's head tilted back as he uttered a silent cry. It was not unpleasant. There was not a significant amount of pain, but there was an edge of brutality that left him gasping for air. Luke thought that Valentine paused for an instant before he began to move, but it was hard to tell.

Luke's eyes refused to leave Valentine's face. The older teen's eyelids would begin to hood as the sensations affected him. But they always snapped open before his eyes could close. Occasionally those eyes would flick across Luke's face, searching for something. After one such glance, Valentine moved his hand between Luke's legs and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts. Luke arched with a groan and Valentine's brutal pace intensified.

It was only a few thrusts later that Valentine spilled into him. Luke shifted involuntarily as he moaned, and with Valentine's hand continuing to work him, it wasn't long before he finished too.

Valentine slowly disentangled himself from his student and lay down. Luke was content. A little nervous, admittedly, but content nonetheless. He didn't want to break the mood or the moment, or whatever sort of calm aftermath Valentine's storm left in its wake. He sighed.

"Jocelyn doesn't want to come between us."

"That's good," Valentine replied offhandedly.

"You're still going to pursue her, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I know she's going to fall for you, Valentine." Luke blushed and looked away.

Valentine started to reply, but Luke cut him off.

"I like you both. A lot. I know you'll treat her well. I just want her to be happy. You too, especially you."

"I am happy with you Lucian. But–"

"I know," Luke said quietly. Valentine nodded.

"I suppose we understand one another. I hope that Jocelyn will prove even half as… understanding."

Luke nodded, but he refused to meet Valentine's eye. Why did things have to be so damn complicated?

Valentine brushed his student's cheek with his fingertips and gave him a soft kiss. Luke was relieved. Whatever happened, he knew, he _knew_ that Valentine cared about him.

(-)

Luke watched Valentine closely. It was rare for him to do otherwise, but this these days his vigil extended to Jocelyn. He couldn't help feeling a pang of regret whenever he saw her. It was hard to determine if the regret was for Jocelyn herself or, if like most things in Lucian's life, it was tied up with Valentine.

Luke could see a certain bond growing between them. Valentine's grief truly awakened something in Jocelyn and Luke wondered if she had lost someone. He knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings of kinship became something deeper and more romantic. As far as Luke was concerned either of them would have to be deluded not to find the other attractive. Besides, Luke instinctively knew that Valentine would always get his way. It was a part of his nature.

Any hesitation on Jocelyn's part was clearly related to him. A small, petty part of Luke was pleased by it, even as the guilt set in. Thankfully, she turned a blind eye to Valentine's continued activities with him. Luke didn't know if he could give Valentine up. He consoled himself with Valentine's words. Their relationship was more than physical and he doubted that Jocelyn would ever feel threatened enough by him to deny a close friendship.

The end of teaching year was approaching rapidly. Luke had the feeling that Valentine would use the end of the year as a chance to finally attain Jocelyn. The changing events would leave things unstable and Jocelyn would be more likely to respond to a constant like Valentine. It worried Luke that he could see that so clearly. He wondered if this was the way that Valentine thought _all the time_.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes

**False Idol**

_Chapter 16_

There was only one class that Luke shared with both Valentine and Jocelyn. It was a class regarding the proper maintenance of weapons and occurred at the end of the week. The teacher took an unholy delight in pointing out the scratches, spots of rust and occasional flaws that heavy practice invariably caused. Naturally Valentine's weapons were always perfectly maintained, which caused their teacher no small amount of irritation. He had once thrown the dark eyed teen out of the classroom, claiming that the he wasn't going to teach someone who didn't need it. Valentine was here today however, and had a carefully cultivated patch of rust on the pommel of his second favourite Seraph blade. He was also sitting next to Jocelyn.

Luke was secure in the knowledge that whatever the teacher would say about his blades, his crossbow was well oiled and flawlessly maintained. He was far more… concerned about the way Valentine and Jocelyn bent their heads together in close conversation. He also noticed the way that Jocelyn took Valentine's hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. Luke's breath hitched, it must be about grief then.

"Aha!"

Luke was startled out of his reverie as their teacher found Valentine's imperfect blade. The teacher then went on to extol the virtue of vigilance and magnanimously decided that even the 'best of us' can make mistakes. He even gave Valentine a friendly pat on the shoulder. Luke noticed how Valentine stiffened. He knew that Valentine did not like to be touched. He looked down at Jocelyn's hand. There were exceptions of course, he thought bitterly. Only then did he recall that he himself was an exception. He sighed.

After class Valentine rose and allowed Jocelyn to walk in front of him. As she neared the exit, Valentine's eyes slid over to Luke. His teacher gave him a slight nod. Luke waved his hand towards Jocelyn's retreating figure. Valentine smiled and somehow conveyed that they would meet later. In private. Luke hoped that he wasn't just seeing what he wanted to see; what he really, _desperately_ wanted to see.

Luke found himself preoccupied for the rest of the day. It was almost as bad as when Valentine had gone missing. At least Luke knew he was still at school, even if he couldn't pinpoint an exact location. In all fairness, he probably could pinpoint his location. He only needed to know where Jocelyn was. A part of him was pleased to see them together because he liked them both and really did want them to be happy. But there was just this unreasonable feeling of jealousy or envy, or the Angel knew what, that haunted his thoughts. He sighed. He _really_ wanted to see Valentine tonight.

(-)

The wait for evening to fall was torturous. Luke's imagination was running far ahead of him and occasionally turned back to mock him. When dinner, notable for Valentine and Jocelyn's absence, had concluded, Luke made his way to his teacher's rooms. He was surprised at his initiative, but the desire to see Valentine outweighed his usual hesitation.

Luke nearly turned back when he came to Valentine's door. His mouth was dry and he almost prayed that Valentine was alone. He tapped softly at the door, his knock barely audible. He was just about to turn around and leave when Valentine's smooth voice bade him enter.

"Ah, Lucian. It was hard to recognise your knock, as quiet as it was, but I am not surprised that you are here."

Luke felt light-headed with relief.

"So… I'm not intruding then?"

"You know my door is always open to you." Valentine paused for a moment as he regarded the solid oak that effectively shut out the outside world. "In a metaphoric sense, at least," he concluded.

Luke nodded absently. Regardless of Valentine's sentiment he would always feel like an intruder. Especially now with Jocelyn… He shook his head.

"Valentine, I–"

Valentine cut him off with an upraised hand. "Perhaps it would be best to talk later."

Luke recognised the glint in the other's eyes and swallowed. He wavered between wanting to talk, because he felt it was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, such noble sentiments were easily drowned in the sudden heat that rushed through his body.

While he was accustomed to Valentine's erratic behaviour that could sometimes border on ferocity, for once Luke was desperate to burry the complications of his situation in a simple, pure pleasure.

His own grin contained an odd intensity. "Sure."

Valentine raised an eyebrow, but smiled as he surveyed Luke's expression. He seemed to like what he saw. They strode up to one another with graceful symmetry. Luke pulled Valentine closer and due to the unexpected nature of his action, the heavier teen actually swayed forward. He quickly recovered himself as he claimed Luke's mouth.

Valentine was hard pressed to follow Luke's pace. The younger teen's actions harked of more than the simple desire for contact. It was unclear which of them decided to shift towards the bed, but they were suddenly in front of the rock-hard mattress without even breaking their kiss.

Luke slid his hand down Valentine's chest and in a rare moment of audacity, grabbed at him and gave him a quick stroke between the legs. Valentine groaned.

"Come on, Valentine," Luke insisted and pulled the older teen down on top of him and the bed.

Valentine was taken off balance once again, and fell with less than usual grace against his student. In the next few seconds Valentine lost his shirt and Luke lost his pants. Luke shifted upwards, arching and rubbed against the bemused Valentine. His teacher bit back a moan and fumbled with his pants. Luke, being of no assistance whatsoever, nipped playfully at the tempting expanse of Valentine's neck. When his teeth closed over the sensitive flesh where neck meets shoulder, Valentine's breath hitched. Luke found himself ecstatic.

The next moment he released his teacher in order to moan as Valentine recovered sufficiently to prepare him. He bucked slightly and tried to spread his legs wider.

"Hurry," he managed to pant.

Valentine was quick to act upon this suggestion and entered Luke. Luke slid against the older teen, causing Valentine to grunt. He reacted quickly though, and their bodies synchronised. Valentine thrust hard and deep as Luke encouraged him with what could only be called fervour. Their pace was brutal and soon they were both lost to anything outside the feel of their bodies moving against one another.

Luke gasped and spilled over himself, ruthlessly clenching around Valentine in the process. His teacher shuddered with the intensity of the sensation and buried his face in the crook of Luke's shoulder. They remained like that for a few moments as they gradually resurfaced.

Valentine recovered first.

Luke resisted it for a moment.

Valentine stretched out beside him and they remained like that for a moment before the silence was broken.

"Lucian, I think we should start that conversation now. I have something to tell you."

Luke swallowed, even with his body lethargic and sated he knew what Valentine was going to say. He decided against interrupting.

"I have asked Jocelyn to marry me. I have set the date a few months after we leave school."

"You really don't waste any time, do you?" Luke asked thickly. "So this means…?"

"I will be doing everything expected of me; living in the same space, children, etcetera. However, I also want to become closer to you. Lucian, I suggest we become _parabatai,_ two halves to the same weapon."

"What?" Luke exclaimed. "Look, Valentine, you can't – or maybe you can – understand how much this means to me, but you are an excellent fighter, exceptional. Do you really want to weaken your fighting style by having to look after me?" Luke asked wretchedly.

"Lucian, how many times do I have to explain that your notions of self worth are entirely skewed? There is no Shadowhunter more proficient with the use of a crossbow. You can easily beat me on accuracy. The whole point of the _parabatai_ system is to combine two warriors who _complement_ one another. I cannot always be aware of my surroundings when I am fighting multiple enemies. I need a sniper, not another melee fighter. I need you."

Luke found himself breathing heavily. Those three concluding words meant everything to him. "Of course, Valentine. You can count on me. Always."

Valentine's nod was solemn. "I am aware of that."

After a moment his expression softened. "Besides, we certainly move well together."

Luke looked down and blushed and Valentine chuckled at his reaction.

"You'll stand beside me at the wedding, as is customary. Oddly enough, I don't think Jocelyn will mind."

"Well she'd certainly prefer me there as your _parabatai_ than as… something else."

"Indeed."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for later chapters, this is probably a **T**.

**False Idol**

_Chapter 17_

"Are you ready for this?"

Luke smiled, but it wavered.

"That is the sort of question I should be asking you, Valentine." Then again such questions were not really appropriate when it came to Valentine. His teacher was always ready, always prepared. Everything in his life seemed to happen only with his express permission. Even an event like this that was supposed to happen as a result of two people making a mutual decision.

Valentine flashed Luke a smile. "Oh, I am definitely ready, Lucian."

Luke had to admit that Valentine looked amazing. More so than usual, that is. He was clad in Shadowhunter gear and he had heard that Jocelyn was going to be wearing the same thing. It was supposedly Valentine's intent to remind everyone that they were warriors first, regardless of the situation. The ceremony would be small and involve the members of the Circle as mutual friends and some of Jocelyn's family. No one brought up the issue of Valentine's family, but speculation blazed around the Circle about any remaining blood ties that their leader may have.

The ceremony was to be held on the bank of Lake Lyn where Raziel himself had first risen. Valentine had decided that the symbolism would be perfect. If anyone thought the location arrogant, they said nothing. This was one of the turning points of his campaign and a celebration of two members of the Circle joining. Valentine had decided that all future Circle marriages would be conducted in much the same way. Luke knew that he wouldn't ever stand up there. Not after both Valentine and Jocelyn had said their vows. However it was common knowledge that Robert and Maryse would soon follow Valentine's example.

Valentine had dug up some archaic ceremonies involving the tying of bloodlines in his research. These were rituals dating from very early Nephilim culture. Valentine clearly didn't want the affair to be to Mundane. Luke began to fidget as the ceremony dragged on. Despite his dread of the conclusion, he was relieved when the final passages were read and the vows sealed.

There was a lump in Luke's throat when he watched Valentine and Jocelyn kiss. It was fairly chaste, but there was no mistaking the tenderness behind Valentine's actions. Luke thanked the Angel that it wasn't too passionate. Then he chided himself for the uncharitable thought.

They both looked happy. At least, Jocelyn was beaming and Valentine had that quiet look of self satisfaction that Luke associated with his teacher's good moods.

After the completion of the formalities Luke stuck around long enough to offer his congratulations and then bolted. Again he was wracked with guilt and berated himself as a coward. He thought he heard Valentine call out to him, but it may have been the echo of his wistful imagination.

With his Shadowhunter education complete there was no longer a school to return to, so Luke went home. It was as he had planned, more or less. He would wait for Valentine to contact him. His teacher had made it clear that the Circle would continue long after school was finished and as long as it took to bring down the corrupted elite of the Council and cleanse the world of demon and half demon filth.

Valentine had taken Luke aside before everything had dissolved into chaotic organisation. There had been passionate kissing bordering on aggressive and breathless promises. Luke still remembered Valentine's arms around him and those deft fingers sneaking up under his top. The encounter was quick and pointed, without being nearly enough for either of them. But Valentine had assured him that as long as there was a Circle; Luke would have a special place in it. As long as Valentine lived and hunted, one necessitating the other, then Luke would be at his side, his _parabatai_. Together they would show that even hell could know fear. Luke shivered.

He would always remain at Valentine's side. Even as Jocelyn and him built their life and raised children, Luke knew that that was just one side of Valentine's existence. His teacher burned with desires that could never be satisfied with a life dedicated to family. While the Marks of mourning no longer adorned Valentine's flesh, he would carry their scars far deeper than his skin and they would drive him as far as he needed to go. Luke knew that he was a part of Valentine's life in a way that was far removed from Jocelyn's part in it.

Luke would have liked to be a part of the calm, reasonable aspects of his teacher's life, but he recognised that the role he played was far more crucial. As the ceremony had suggested, Valentine was a warrior first. However, Luke suspected that his teacher would make a great father too.

Luke would be known to Valentine's children as a mutual friend of Valentine and Jocelyn, but he knew that he would always be on the outside. He was destined for more important things, or so Valentine had told him.

(-)

Luke was nervous, even though he was armed. The note had said to be on the shore of Lake Lyn at this hour in the early evening. The note had been from Valentine. Luke wondered if the location was supposed to remind him of the wedding. He rechecked his carefully oiled crossbow and fiddled with the firing mechanism. It was soothing work.

"Lucian." A simple statement, but it carried strong meaning. Luke's heart beat faster. He didn't turn around in the irrational fear that Valentine wouldn't be there if he looked.

"Valentine." Luke's tone didn't carry the slight caress that Valentine could somehow bestow on ordinary words, but he was relieved that his voice didn't waver.

"I've been tracking a demon for some time now. I know where it is now. Let's hunt, _parabatai_."

It seemed to Luke that Valentine was standing right beside his ear. He turned around, but his teacher was standing at a short distance with his hand resting on the hilt of his favourite Seraph blade. Luke remembered the first demon that they had hunted. He also remembered the great flowing speeches about saving this earth. In the end, Luke knew he was hunting for Valentine rather than for the ideal world that his teacher extolled. In the end, Luke prayed for clean kill.

(-)

The demon concerned wasn't some mindless creature like a Ravener. It was cunning and it was cruel. Valentine explained that he had been tracking it through the Mundane world. He could never seem to pick up its trail directly, but it had a strong fondness for creating and using Forsaken and they weren't so picky about not leaving a trail… or a pile of corpses, for that matter.

The thing was arrogant and Valentine finally had a lock on its location. All he needed was someone trustworthy and skilled to watch his back. He needed a sniper to take care of the Forsaken while he dealt with the demon itself.

Valentine led them through cold Mundane streets. Luke had half expected a vaguely benevolent expression on Valentine's face as he strode, beneath a glamour, past oblivious Mundanes. Instead there was a look of contempt as he noted ignorant, non-warriors attending to their trivial concerns. After a while, Valentine broke the silence.

"It's such a waste, don't you think? These people could be doing something meaningful for the protection of the world. Instead…" Valentine trailed off with a disgusted shake of his head.

Luke tried to think of something tactful to say. He was spared the task by a request for silence. Luke didn't require words to know that they had arrived. There was a wisp of sulphur stench in the air and if he listened hard enough he could hear the discontented grunts of Forsaken.

It was some sort of abandoned storage facility. Valentine did not hesitate. The door crashed open where he threw his bulk against it. Luke took down a Forsaken before the dust had cleared. There was no finer shooter than him, and even the unwieldy nature of a cross bow barely slowed his rate of fire. Speed and precision enhancing Marks saw to that.

Valentine cut down the first Forsaken that crossed his path. The once-human creature howled and flailed as it died, but Valentine remained utterly silent. The demon was standing well back, but gave an angry hiss as its minions fell to crossbow bolt and Seraph blade.

Valentine sprang at it and engaged the ragged talons with his shining blade. Luke kept the Forsaken away from his teacher. They seemed drawn to the white haired teen as he fought against their master and Luke simply picked them off whenever he had a clear shot.

There was a reptilian screech as Valentine dispatched the demon and infernal blood hissed and spit where it came into contact with wood or the dead flesh of the Forsaken. The live Forsaken lurched about drunkenly as the demon died. Valentine's blade ran neatly through a howling Forsaken. Luke finished loading his next bolt when one last creature leapt at him with daunting speed. He couldn't raise his bow fast enough. He tried to draw his blade. Too late.

Valentine's blade slid through the creature's torso and it screamed in a too-human voice and collapsed on the ground. It twitched for a few seconds before it lay still. Luke swallowed as bile rose in the back of his throat.

"Severed the spinal cord and pierced that heart. It is a fairly clean kill." Valentine shrugged.

Luke nodded, numbly.

"Th-thank you, Valentine."

"What? It's one to me and about half a dozen to you, Lucian. If I didn't have you at my back, those Forsaken would have gutted me while I was occupied with the demon. I was merely returning the favour, albeit late and not quite to the same magnitude."

Valentine smiled his beatific smile and patted Luke on the shoulder.

"We are _Parabatai_. Enough said," Valentine declared.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for a reason, contains explicit male/male scenes and some violence.

**False Idol**

_Chapter 18_

"Oh Luke, I'm glad that you could make it." Jocelyn gave him a wan smile.

Luke crossed the threshold and gave her a friendly hug, keeping it carefully platonic. He followed Jocelyn to the kitchen and took a seat. Jocelyn sat opposite him and her hands fluttered together for a moment before alighting on the table. Luke narrowed his eyes. Her hand movements seemed to be a nervous gesture. In all their schooling, Luke had never noticed any nervous mannerisms from her. Jocelyn's actions were always calm and deliberate.

"What's on your mind?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"What do you think about the Circle these days?"

Luke shifted in his chair. "They– we are quite… passionate these days."

Jocelyn nodded and Luke went on. "Every non-human is an enemy. The Mundanes are sheep and the Nephilim are corrupted. Or so we say. Apparently. It's getting a little… excessive."

Jocelyn nodded again. "And Valentine?"

Luke looked down at the table. "What about Valentine?" He murmured.

"What do you think of him… recently? These days?"

"He–" Luke paused, still refusing to look up.

Luke didn't see Valentine often. It was only when he was called upon to hunt or to meet with the Circle that he was able to be with his old teacher. It was during this time that Luke began to notice a change in Valentine. If he was being brutally honest, Valentine had changed a lot during their last year of school, but Luke hadn't noticed. The change had been smooth and gradual when he saw Valentine everyday. Now he saw Valentine change in discreet bursts. There was something harder and darker about his once angelic teacher. Valentine appeared to be riding an edge sharper than his favourite blade. Yet Luke hoped that the Valentine that had taken him under his wing and joined him in his bed would surface once he had taken some sort of revenge against the demons. These days it felt as if this vengeance was directed at anything less than human.

He cleared his throat. "Valentine is different. In some ways. But he's still the same underneath. He's becoming a soldier now, more like a general really. For him this is a war and I don't know when it's going to stop. Or what the casualties will be."

"Valentine broods a lot and the Circle is becoming, well frankly, a little rabid."

"What do you propose? Leaving the Circle?"

"No. Nothing like that. Wayland agrees us. He's also a little… uncomfortable about things. I want to ask you favour. The same one I asked him."

Luke finally looked up. "What?"

"Please stay in the Circle and help moderate it. Help to even out the sharp edges and if it is a war, help remind Valentine what he's fighting for."

Luke looked down again, his face heating, but thankfully not going red. He wondered what Jocelyn thought she was suggesting.

"I –" Luke broke off and raised his head. Jocelyn gave him a puzzled look but a few seconds later Valentine entered the room. He smiled when he saw Luke, but the expression wasn't quite as warm as Luke had hoped.

"Ah, Lucian, I'm glad you're here. I have a lead on a filthy Accord breaking werewolf. He acts solitarily, outside of any pack. His latest crime was tearing a Mundane child apart."

Luke felt relieved that they were hunting a proper criminal. These days it was not uncommon to hunt a Downworlder for some insignificant slight against the rules. Valentine never showed mercy.

Luke nodded. "I'll follow your lead."

Valentine smiled.

(-)

They hunted down dark Mundane streets along pathways that glistened with recent rain. Valentine paused to look at cryptic signs as he tracked down the werewolf. Eventually he came to a halt, a frown marring his features.

"The trail's gone cold. This beast is vaguely intelligent."

Luke waited as Valentine began pacing the narrow alley. A sudden noise had their hands flashing to their weapons. Valentine sprang forward and seized a small girl from behind a dumpster.

"Valentine, What–" Luke began as Valentine pushed his captive against a rough wall. Then the girl snarled in a way that a purely human throat couldn't possibly manage. Luke paled.

"Get off me, Nephilim. I haven't done anything!"

Valentine smiled. It was not a pleasant expression.

"That remains to be seen. My sources informed me that my current target has a sister. You wouldn't happen to know anything about would you?" Valentine coaxed.

"I'm not telling you anything! Leave us alone!"

"Valentine," Luke began.

"Quiet, Lucian. Please."

Valentine turned back to the werewolf girl. "I can't prove that you're guilty of anything, although the notion of an innocent werewolf is enough to make me laugh. I'll give you one last chance, demon-spawn. Where. Is. He?"

The creature snarled through a shifting expression. Fur started to sprout along her arms and cheeks.

Valentine pressed his forearm against the girl's throat. His eyes held a terrible calmness. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and withdrew a couple of coins. They were silver. The werewolf girl stilled.

Luke was paralysed with horror. He watched Valentine reach up and placed the coins carefully over the girl's eyes. She howled as he held them against her with his thumb and forefinger, burning her. She thrashed, but Valentine was implacable.

It was Luke who saw the telltale glint of golden eyes in the shadows and heard the faint, suppressed snarl. Not even a werewolf could sneak up on him. He turned gracefully and shot his silver tipped crossbow bolt in one graceful movement. As soon as he moved Valentine let the girl drop to the ground and he drew his blade. There was an unearthly howl of pain and then the creature rushed them. It wasn't being strategic, it was a wounded animal lashing out in pain and that made it easier for Luke to draw his dagger, even as Valentine's blade arced around him. They moved sinuously together, perfectly complementary.

Valentine's blade caught it across the throat and Luke stabbed it through the chest. Warm blood misted across his cheek and the beast fell to the ground. Thankfully, it was a clean kill and its body quickly assumed a human shape in death.

Valentine wiped the blood from his blade and stalked off. Luke was torn as he looked over his shoulder at the girl, hunched over the rapidly cooling body of her brother. He took a step forward but she snarled, her eyes ringed with burns and not focusing properly.

"Get out of here!" Her voice caught.

"I–"

"Go!" she shrieked and Luke had little choice but to trot after Valentine.

(-)

It was a relief to be away from the Mundane world and back to the serenity of Luke's homeland. The darkness didn't bother Luke and the pale moonlight gave definition to each blade of grass and distant leaf. The cool greys were infinitely soothing compared to the harsh Mundane streetlights.

Former teacher and student stopped to rest by a small stream. Valentine lay back in the grass with a sigh and winced slightly as muscles punished under a surge of adrenaline protested. Luke remained upright and stared unseeing at the play of water over the streambed.

"It had to be done. We are at war and there are always going to…casualties," Valentine murmured at last.

Luke remained silent and continued to stare. His thoughts boiled in his head.

"Lucian…"

Valentine placed a warm hand on his former student's shoulder. Luke hadn't even heard him shift into a sitting position.

"She was an innocent," Luke stated in a flat voice.

"She was a monster and brother to a monster."

"She was protecting him."

"Precisely."

There was more silence as two tangential lines of thought struggled for familiar ground.

"In war you can become a monster if you're not careful. I worry about you, Valentine," Luke admitted.

"I am honoured by that, truly. But I think you are being a little overdramatic."

Luke shrugged, hunching his shoulders. Valentine's free hand alighted on Luke's other shoulder.

"If there is to be horror in this war then I accept the burden on my shoulders. I know what has to be done. The fact that you hesitate reassures me, Lucian. We are _parabatai_, two halves, and you are my compassion." Valentine did not elaborate on what half he was. Luke resolved to perform Jocelyn's favour. The Circle and Valentine himself needed some balance. In future he would step in earlier. He would learn to push where Valentine pulled. He owed it to the both of them.

He relaxed his shoulders and leaned back slightly against Valentine's hard chest. It was difficult to hold a grudge.

Valentine lips brushed Luke's ear.

"Would you consider it a betrayal of Jocelyn if I told you how you looked in the moonlight?" Valentine asked.

Luke froze and his heart thudded in his chest. Valentine waited patiently for his answer. Luke knew what his former teacher was really asking. He knew that a simple 'yes' would result in Valentine leaving him alone and never brining this subject up again. They would still be close, they would still be _parabatai_ and the only change would be the removal of the physical component. Luke knew that Valentine could cut away the sex with surgical precision, without damaging their relationship. Luke also knew that he should say yes.

"No. Not really."

"You surprise me, Lucian. But I am delighted that you have."

Valentine's arms wound around Luke's chest and he nipped affectionately at his neck and shoulder. Luke shivered slightly and allowed Valentine to bear him to the ground.

Hunger sparked in Valentine's dark eyes and leant down to taste his former student's lips. Old habits died hard, and Luke parted his lips, even as his mind screamed at him to stop. But he wanted this, possibly even more than Valentine. His former teacher was probably quite aware of this too.

Then Valentine's hips rolled against his and coherent thought stopped. It was a blessed relief. It was so much easier to feel instead of think. He knew his conscience would hurt him for this later, but for now he gasped and lifted his hips to get closer to Valentine.

The dark eyed male laughed in a genuine way and the sound inspired hope. Luke found himself ginning in return as clothes were shed and cool night air prickled their bare skin. He could almost pretend that it was just like the old days and that neither of them had a care beyond the immediate.

Luke moaned as Valentine explored his body. While he was often cold in manner and words these days, now there was roaring heat and desire behind his hands and lips. Luke felt as if this was one way that Valentine could communicate things that he seemed to have increasing trouble in saying.

After a mutually impatient preparation, Valentine thrust into Luke. Luke arched and clawed at Valentine's shoulders. Breath hissed between his clenched teeth as raw sensation travelled up his spine. Valentine seemed equally affected. His hair fell about his face and his muscles were taut against his skin as he fought to wait a moment for Luke's sake.

"Please… Valentine…"

With a groan Valentine began to thrust. Even in the cool air, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Luke's eyes fell closed and he moved in perfect counter-rhythm to his _parabatai_. It was quick and desperate and neither of them lasted long.

They lay panting in the aftermath and Luke allowed himself a few guilt-free moments, curled up against Valentine's reassuringly heavy chest. Perhaps the Valentine he had known was still there, somewhere.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters this is probably a **T**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 19_

Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Valentine burned. He felt as if he was standing at the head of the Circle, rasing his army with nothing but the power of his words and raw passion. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a blade between the madness of the demons and the negligence of the Council.

The only things that consumed him were his war, his experiments with Downworlders and the child now growing inside of Jocelyn. But now, burning away all these concerns was the overwhelming desire for vengeance.

Usually this was a background desire that only really affected him when he handled his father's old knife or when he was hunting down werewolves. Today however, vengeance was the only thing on his mind. After months of following disheartening leads and sifting through mounds of pointless, trivial reports he had done it. He had finally traced the pack that had murdered his father.

As soon as he had the information he had contacted Lucian. They would hunt tonight, and perhaps, perhaps he would find some peace.

"Valentine, I have to talk to you," Lucian's concerned tones broke through Valentine's musings.

The dark eyed hunter took a moment to shift his frame of mind away from his enemies. Lucian looked worried. Valentine was aware that he and his student no longer saw eye to eye on some issues. Lucian was compassionate and forgiving. These were not good qualities in a soldier, but Valentine could not find it in him to resent these characteristics.

"What is on your mind?" he asked, gradually calming himself.

"It's about Jocelyn. She told me about her pregnancy, congratulations by the way, but she also told me some odd things about you."

Valentine raised an eyebrow.

"She says she's worried about your behaviour that you've become… erratic and spend whole nights in the cellar. Valentine, to be blunt, she says she hears screams through the walls."

Valentine stood still as he took this information in. He should be more careful about worrying Jocelyn. She was carrying his first child and nothing, not even his experiments would endanger that. He would have told Lucian about his theories and his tests, but Lucian was no soldier. Valentine doubted he'd understand. Anyway, none of this was important, certainly not important enough to distract from the hunt. Certainly not this hunt. Valentine felt his rage begin to climb again. The murdering, filthy werewolves were alive, he knew where they were, he had his _parabatai_ at his side and all they were talking about was his wife's petty worries. Valentine laughed.

"She's carrying her first child. I'd be more concerned if she wasn't jittery about something. That's not important right now. I need you with me tonight, Lucian."

Lucian hesitated.

Valentine waited.

"Of- of course, Valentine. I know how much this hunt means to you."

Valentine nodded once, decisively. "I'll watch your back, _parabatai._ We are two sides."

(---)

That night the two Shadowhunters stalked through trees and over grass. The animals barely tried to hide their tracks. Whether it was out of arrogance or mere bestial stupidity, Valentine didn't care. It made his task easier and that was all that mattered. Lucian padded almost silently on his right, his crossbow held ready and his expression set hard.

When they came upon the clearing and saw the beasts lounging on the ground, some in beast-form, some human and some in ghastly intermediate states, something in Valentine snapped.

He surged forward, all thoughts of plans and calculations evaporating in an instant. A growl tore from his throat, a sound more vicious than anything these beasts were capable of. He swung his silver edged sword in great arcs that thudded into flesh and cracked bone. He was dimly aware of crossbow bolts striking like silent killers in the still night air. Valentine was so consumed by rage and hatred that all other external cues ceased to exists. As a consequence he felt something break in the link between him and Lucian.

The thread that connected them as _parabatai_ was noticeable only by its absence. Valentine spared a brief second's contemplation over this sudden loss of contact, but quickly shrugged it off. There were werewolves breathing and that was a personal affront to him. Lucian would understand when the heat of battle rage had worn off.

He hacked at the charging beast before him. His blow lacked finesse, but his anger gave him the power to shear through its foreleg and leave it howling on the ground as the wound cauterised itself. Valentine smiled grimly and decided that his silver blade deserved a place of honour, even over that of his favourite Seraph blade.

The sound of a cry cut through his clouded mind. He swung around to face the source of the sound: Lucian.

There was no time for thought. The beast was on Lucian's back and Valentine reacted. He leapt forward. His blade sang through the air and buried itself in the wolf's throat. Blood poured from the jagged throat wound and over Lucian's shoulder and front. His shirt was quickly soaked. Then the silver inflicted wound burned and stemmed the blood flow. The werewolf fell from his _parabatai's_ back and Valentine took a step forward, intending to jam his blade through the beast's heart. Then Lucian swayed on his feet.

Valentine stepped forward and caught Lucian as he listed to one side. Lucian's eyes flickered and he fell unconscious. The shock, blood loss and the after effects of adrenaline were clearly working against him. Then rage crystallised into icy horror as Valentine realised that Lucian had been bitten.

"No," he whispered in a moment of ineffectual panic.

Icy calm flooded his system and his emotions were temporarily overruled by his rational mind. Lucian was injured. The rest of the pack had taken the opportunity to flee. They were no longer important. Not all werewolf bites resulted in lycanthropy. Lucian might still pull through. He needed to be treated. He drew his stele and placed a Mark on his student to stop the bleeding. As an afterthought he scrawled a quick Mark for purity. Then Valentine slung the unconscious body of his _parabatai _over his shoulder and began the long walk home. There was hope. There had to be.

(---)

Jocelyn ran up to him before he even reached the door. She stifled a gasp with her hand when she saw Lucian and the blood.

"Valentine…"

"It is three weeks before the next full moon and then we'll know. We are not going to say anything to the Council."

"Of course we're not!" Jocelyn snapped.

Valentine gave a weary smile. He could certainly count on his wife.

"I'll get the bandages, would you please boil some water for me?" Valentine asked gently.

Jocelyn nodded. "Of course. Take him upstairs to the guestroom. He'll be staying a while."

Valentine shifted the weight of his _parabatai_ and climbed the stairs. When Jocelyn returned with water, he cleaned the wound and dressed it. It was deep, but neat. There would be no permanent muscle or nerve damage, but it would hurt when Lucian awoke. After the wound was treated Valentine carefully applied Marks for purity and healing around Lucian's shoulder and upper arm. His student stayed mercifully unconscious throughout the procedure. Valentine sat back in chair after he was done. He was not going to leave Lucian's side.

(---)

"You're going to be fine," Valentine didn't know why his pronouncement contained such conviction, but he could _feel_ it. Luke was so compassionate and pure. There was no way that the filthy demon-tainted disease could find root in his flesh. It just wouldn't make sense.

"Valentine," Lucian's smile wavered slightly and he sat up in bed, "I certainly appreciate the vote of confidence, but–"

"No 'buts," Valentine cut him off. "The wound is clean and you're healing well. You will be back at my side hunting down demons in no time at all."

Valentine rose from the chair and gave him a friendly pat. "You'll stay here until I can put these foolish doubts of yours to rest. I know that doubting yourself is almost your favourite pastime, but as I have told you before, many times, if you can't see it in yourself then at least trust me."

Luke nodded, but still mumbled something without meeting Valentine's eyes.

"What was that?" Valentine asked.

"I said that the Council would want to keep me locked up for observation. If they knew…"

"You know exactly what I think of the 'Council'. Anyway, I'm sure my hospitality is at least equal to their's. Lucian, stop trying to argue, you're staying here. Jocelyn and I both think it's for the best. It's only a couple of weeks and then you can stop all this nonsense."

Lucian broke out into a sincere grin. Valentine's easy faith was infectious. They shared a quick embrace before Lucian settled on the bed again. Valentine noted the way he favoured his shoulder. He tried not to frown.

(---)

It was the turning point, the full moon. Tonight would settle things. Valentine had stayed by Lucian's side every night and even through the day. Jocelyn was blessedly understanding and for that Valentine kept is affections toward his _parabatai _purely platonic.

Now, as dusk approached, Valentine sat on a chair in the guest room that he had bequeathed to Lucian. A silver blade rested against the side of Valentine's chair. He jokingly called it protection, but he knew he wouldn't need it. Lucian wasn't going to turn. It just wouldn't be right. His protégé looked grim, despite his assurances. This night would be a vigil unlike anything that Valentine had faced since the death of his father. He could feel his muscles humming with tension. His jaw already ached from the way he clenched it, but relaxation was beyond him.

Valentine sat on the chair and stared at Lucian.

Lucian sat on the bed and stared at Valentine.

"Valentine, if anything happens…"

Valentine held up a hand for silence. "You will be fine. I know it."

Lucian nodded, with his gaze on the floor. It was going to be a long night.

It was just before midnight when it happened. As the hours dragged on from evening to true night, Valentine noticed that Lucian became more and more fidgety. He assumed it was nerves. Lucian was restless even when he had no reason to be. It became worse by increments, finally forcing Lucian up from his seat and leading him to pace the floor. Valentine remained still and quiet.

After a full hour of pacing up and down Lucian flung himself back on the bed. He was deathly still for several minutes and then he uttered a low moan. Valentine had thought he was as tensed as possible, but when he heard that sound his muscles tightened even further, and his breath struggled to get into his lungs.

Then it happened. Lucian began to change. It was surprisingly swift. Hair grew and limbs altered length and shape. Flesh twitched and rearranged itself. Sounds somewhere between human and beast, yet more terrible than either, erupted from a shifting throat. Then it was over. Valentine stared in incomprehension.

The newly formed creature on the bed turned to look at him. There was nothing of Lucian in those molten yellow eyes; not a flicker of recognition. Valentine felt his stomach lurch. He stood frozen. For the first time in his life he didn't know what to do. It was not a pleasant feeling. The beast turned to the window and leapt through it, breaking the glass and leaving it to tinkle down on the carpet and the grass outside.

Of course, Valentine thought, the glass wasn't silver and monsters healed quickly. Then he heard screaming. His heart thudded in his chest and he wondered who could produce such a horrible sound. It was only when Jocelyn burst into the room and wrapped her arms around him that he realised that _he_ was producing the sound. Even with this sudden revelation he knew he couldn't stop. The sound tore through his chest and his throat. It felt like he'd never stop.

Out in the moonlight, where the grass met the woods a wolf turned its muzzle back towards the sound of the strange scream and began to howl.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters, this is probably a **T**

**False Idol**

_Chapter 20_

If a newly turned werewolf retained their human mind, they wouldn't be able to move or use their senses. They'd be trying to see while ignoring the richness of scents. They would try to talk with vocal cords that couldn't accommodate human speech. There is a big difference between crawling on hands and knees and running gracefully on four legs with properly shaped haunches and vertebrae. It takes time to learn how to control a human body from scratch. It's even harder to control a new form when one is used to an old shape.

It is only later that a change can be controlled. That is when human thoughts can co-exist with just enough of the wolf's to control the movement of four legs. This is why the very first shift is completely uncontrolled. Everything becomes lupine, especially the mind. For a being used to thinking in a human way, this was a shock. Pain. Confusion. Darkness. Fear. Thinking didn't… work. Thoughts were small things coated in images and feelings rather than words. The human is pushed deep into the subconscious where it can learn.

When Luke changed that very first time there was nothing of him that wasn't the wolf. Valentine had actually been right, in that respect.

(-)

Luke was unbelievably stiff and cold when he awoke. There was something sticky pressed against his cheek. He groaned and opened his eyes. He hated mornings. He peeled his face away from the ground and looked down. There was the half eaten carcass of a rabbit. Luke wiped at the rapidly congealing blood on his cheek and looked down at the dirty red smears on his chest. Suddenly everything came back with awful clarity.

No. He uttered a choked sob. Nononono. It wasn't possible. Valentine had _said_ that it wasn't going to happen. Luke felt sick. He was cold and alone and he knew that he had betrayed Valentine in the worst possible way. Every speech, every sneered comment he had ever heard in the Circle came back with a jolt. He was a monster. He wasn't even a demon, but some appalling combination of the two.

He sat and stared, trying to decide if it was a mercy that he had simply blacked out and couldn't remember Valentine's reaction. He swallowed. What if Valentine _wasn't_ angry at him? Luke forever doubted himself, but he was more than willing to place his faith in Valentine. Perhaps there could be some sort of arrangement? What if they tied him up before he changed? What if he could learn to control the part of himself that was a monster?

Luke wasn't even sure about any of it, but in the end he returned to Valentine. Valentine would know what to do. Besides, where else would he go?

(-)

"Valentine…?" Jocelyn began.

Valentine stared at the table in front of him.

"Valentine, say something. Please."

Valentine picked up a slice of toast

"You haven't made a sound since last night. Valentine, you screamed until you fell asleep from exhaustion and now you come down to breakfast like it was any other day. I'm worried about you. Please just say something, anything," she continued.

Valentine carefully buttered his slice of toast right to the edge of the crust.

"He'll turn up, Valentine. He'll come back," Jocelyn tried to reassure.

If Valentine had felt like talking he would have pointed out that Lucian would not be coming back. He would have told Jocelyn that Lucian was dead. Oh, _something_ would come back, no doubt, but Lucian was dead and for once Valentine was going to kill for the sake of mercy.

(-)

The creature came stumbling to their front door a few hours before noon. Its bare chest was smeared with blood and the tattered remains of its pants were similarly tainted. The creature was wearing Lucian's face and that was why Jocelyn made the mistake of throwing herself at the creature and sobbing. Valentine pulled her away, but gently, because it was a mistake anyone could have made. The creature was wearing Lucian's face, but it was not Lucian. He growled at Jocelyn to go inside and stay there.

Valentine walked toward the edge of the woods, confident that the creature would follow him. Where else was it going to go? When they came to a clearing that was out of sight from his front door, Valentine turned to confront the creature.

Lucian was dead. The creature before him wore his face and talked in his voice, but Lucian Graymark was dead. This, this _thing_ in front of him was the worst kind of sacrilege imaginable.

"You're not him," Valentine spat.

"Valentine, please," the creature pleaded.

Valentine drew his knife. It had been his father's. The creature stood there, not threatening, not trying to defend itself. _Accepting_. Valentine's gut twisted. His arm cramped and he let out a choked sound. He had never heard himself utter such a sound. His eyes burned. His throat and chest were on fire. He could still hear the sound of his own screams from the night before.

"I can't do it." His voice sounded horribly weak to his ear. He had never hesitated before a kill. But this… who could do this?

"Valentine…" That same pleading tone.

"Silence!" Valentine roared, hating the monster before him, hating himself for his weakness.

"Don't you _dare_ talk with his voice! Don't you dare. If there is even a shred of Lucian left in you, even a shred of my _parabatai_, my greatest friend and ally..."

Valentine's gaze dropped to the forest floor. "Then you will finish it yourself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the creature flinch at his words. His gaze rose and he noted the bloodstained and torn garments, the complete lack of any weapon. He looked down at his father's knife, one of the last links he had. He kissed the hilt reverently, partially to honour the memory of a great Shadowhunter, but far more strongly to honour and remember the way he used to kiss Lucian.

"Take it and finish it," Valentine whispered.

He held out the knife hilt first. He valued the blade highly, but if could put the memory of his friend to rest, if could grant Lucian peace, then it was no sacrifice at all.

The creature stared at him a moment longer, the pleading expression in its eyes. It seemed on the verge of speaking, but it mercifully remained silent. Then it slowly took the dagger. Valentine's heart thudded as their fingers brushed a final time. A corpse shouldn't be so warm.

He turned away without looking back once. He went inside and barred the door. He didn't want Jocelyn to see it and if he saw the body of his greatest friend die, he didn't know what he'd do. He took a seat at the kitchen table and stared into the distance. It was a long time before he moved.

Then an hour or so later, Valentine sprang up with renewed purpose he swept upstairs and retrieved his stele. He sat at his desk and removed his shirt.

Valentine fingered his stele and brought the thought of Lucian's death to the forefront of his mind. His flesh tingled with the memory of the last time that he had mourned. His hand remained steady as he began his first mark at the base of his wrist. The pain throbbed through the flesh at the same rate as his heartbeat. The patterns he drew were intricate and graceful and outwardly he gave no sign of discomfort. He might as well have been painting on a canvas. Only the angry red marks that formed beneath his careful stele betrayed the true extent of the damage.

Valentine worked carefully up his arm and to his shoulder. Then he started on his right arm, frowning slightly at the lack of precision in his non-preferred hand. The difference in image quality was minor, but still it frustrated Valentine in a way he couldn't put words to. He changed back to his right hand with no small amount of relief in order to decorate his torso. He started from his waist and worked his way up. Every patch of skin was negative space in his design.

When he was finished he tried to place his stele on the table in front of him. He stared curiously at his clenched fingers and whitened knuckles before realising the muscles were under his direct control. It took him another moment to relax his grip and let the item drop. He took in a deep breath. In the background of his mind, he could still hear himself screaming. He wondered when the sound would stop.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Mortal Instruments_, either the book or the artefacts themselves.

**Warnings:** Rated for other chapters, this is probably a **T**, but with some werewolf violence

**False Idol**

_Chapter 21_

Luke watched Valentine's back as he left the clearing. He had the absurd hope that his former teacher would turn back, or even glance back. He didn't and Luke watched the retreating figure until it was lost from sight behind the tree trunks. Then he stared at the knife in his hand. It was easily recognisable.

The gracefully tapered blade was notched from long, hard use. It was a functional knife with very little decoration. There were some blue stones set in the hilt, obviously more for balance than decoration. The only embellishment was the Morgenstern star carved shallowly into the blade. Luke turned it over and over in his hands. Then he froze. He knew the link that this blade held for Valentine to his father, but he also remembered something else. He had seen Valentine wield it as part of a matched pair. This _kindjal_ was one of two daggers. Valentine held the other one. Luke's breathing came rapid and shallow.

He knew he couldn't kill himself outright. It didn't seem right. But he knew what he could do. He knew how he could avenge himself and Valentine's father, for that matter. Also, if he was lucky, he might just die in the process.

Luke turned toward the depths of the forest and began to run. He wasn't thinking and took refuge in his instincts. Sometimes he ran as wolf and other times as a human. Even though he despised the wolf within, he was willing to use it for this purpose. It was less tiring running on four legs and his thoughts were blessedly incoherent as a wolf.

(-)

Luke staggered to a stop, in his human form, when he reached his target. The pack that had changed him had a scent that was burned into his memory. Luke fingered the knife and then drew it. There would be death tonight and he was beyond caring who's.

He stumbled into the clearing, brandishing the knife. He felt almost drunk. When you had lost everything and expected death, nothing could touch you.

"Come on you flee-bitten dogs!" He hollered. "Fight me!"

A numb, detached part of his mind wondered what he must look like. He was smeared with old blood and dirt from the forest floor. He probably didn't look like anything that could possibly pose a threat. Then again, the last thing anyone wanted to fight, even a wolf, was a rabid, half-sane werewolf. To call such a creature merely unstable was stretching the word to the limits of its definition. Unstable meant unpredictable.

The creatures that were wearing their human faces smirked at him. A couple of the more feral ones bared their teeth. Luke noticed fresh blood on some of their claws and nails. The scent of recently butchered meat wafted past his newly sensitive nose. They had hunted not long ago. The glade hummed with tension, and Luke prepared himself to take down at least one of these creatures before he was overwhelmed.

Then a previously unnoticed male stood up. He had shaggy grey hair and even in his fully human form he seemed to retain something lupine. He had a large frame and heavy brows. When he stepped forward the pack sat back. Each of his steps was placed with deliberate care, as if he was unaccustomed to two legs.

He stopped a few paces from Luke and looked him up and down.

"Now if you were just some Nephilim, the clan would be tearing you apart and I wouldn't even try to stop them. However, you're more than that, so you get rights. If you wanna fight, we fight. Just you and me. If you wanna talk, we'll talk," he announced in a gruff rumble.

Luke's muscles quivered with suppressed tension and he shook his head, his eye never leaving the clan leader. The big male shrugged.

"Have it your way, we fight then. I can't say I ever cared much for Nephilim, even one in your unique circumstance."

Without further ado he leapt, changing in mid air to crash against Luke in his wolf form. Luke held up the dagger and managed to ward off the initial onslaught. The ensuring struggle was ugly. Luke was unaccustomed to his werewolf characteristics and didn't have the skill or finesse of his opponent. The clan leader was clearly a veteran of werewolf fighting. As far as Luke could ascertain, this style of combat was a matter of trading off. Claws and teeth could tear fragile skin, while opposable thumbs and human flexibility could out-mauver the wolf form. It was a matter of balancing the forms in order to maximise your advantage and minimise your disadvantage.

Luke was under no illusions about his melee ability. Valentine had always been the stronger hand-to-hand fighter, but Luke had some advantages over the clan leader. Luke was desperate and reckless. Pain and damage didn't matter because he expected to die. He took risks in the fight that no sane creature would take and he wouldn't stay down. Werewolves healed rapidly and he had been trained as a Shadowhunter in his former life. He was intimately familiar with endurance. The clan leader was looking for victory. Luke was looking for mutual destruction.

"You fight well… worthy of a werewolf," the clan leader panted as they grappled. Luke could see the approval shining in the leader's yellow-green eyes. It drove him to greater rage and he snarled inarticulately. The sound tore from his human throat, but it was unequivocally lupine. Luke renewed his assault, trying to tear at flesh with nails, claws, teeth and even the knife. The clan leader easily flowed around most of his attacks, his body was sinuous and sleek regardless of which form he fought in. Luke only managed the occasion bite or gash and felt may wounds open across his flanks, chest and back. But he never stopped, surrender didn't even occur to him, so consumed by his own pain and rage.

The rest of the pack watched in silence. The occasional human form shifted from foot to foot. The occasional wolf form would give a flick of its tail. Other than that there was stillness. Luke didn't realise this at the time, but it was rare for werewolf fights to last longer than an hour or so. An outclassed opponent would usually succumb to despair and yield. Their fight was progressing deep into the night.

When dawn began to creep over the forest, the pack gradually shifted until the wolves were lying on their paws and the human-formed members sprawled. Luke could tell that the clan leader was tiring. He no longer spared any words for their encounter and his graceful movements had begun to stiffen. There was an unspoken understanding that there would be no mercy. Luke was too enraged to let the clan leader live and the clan leader knew when the only viable course of action was to put down a rabid animal. Luke would be too dangerous to let live.

The day wore on. Luke was put in the dirt more times than he could count, but the other could never find an opportunity to deliver a killing blow. Luke's anger never abated and in the end, it was inevitable. It was sunset when the clan leader left himself open, and in a moment of startling clarity Luke saw his opportunity and drove the dagger into the leader's neck and tore out his throat with the finely honed metal. A werewolf heals rapidly, but there is no way for a dead body to regenerate.

Luke got shakily to his feet. His chest heaved with his deep breathes. He stared at the pack, waiting for them to rush him and tear him apart. He was grimly satisfied that he had killed their alpha and he welcomed the final battle of his life.

Then, by some unspoken signal, every werewolf shifted together. The human forms knelt and bared their throats. The wolf forms rolled over and showed their vulnerable undersides. Luke stood in the midst of the pack and stared in disbelief. He began to tremble with more than simple fatigue.

"Stop! What are you doing! I killed him, here in front of you!" He growled.

One of the wolves rolled over to face him, still lying down. It tilted his head and regarded him.

Luke took some calming breaths before he spoke again. "Just give me one reason why I shouldn't try and kill you all." _Or turn the knife on myself_, he added silently.

The wolf that had rolled over got to its feet and scratched itself behind the ear. Then it changed to its human form without apparent concern. It was one of the males that had smirked at him earlier when he had first entered the glad. It tilted its head to one side again, a parody of the lupine action.

"I got plenty of reasons, if you're interested, Chief."

Luke's lips pulled back from his teeth at the unwanted honourific.

"Firstly," the werewolf began, ignoring Luke's obvious displeasure. "I don't think you're the type to kill in cold blood. You're leader now and none of us are even _allowed_ to fight you until after you've recovered from the last fight."

Some of the other pack members had gotten up to stretch or alter their forms. A few of the human ones nodded.

"Second," the unofficial spokesperson continued. "As you can see, we ain't the most… _civilised_ of packs."

"Yeah, barely even housetrained," drawled a female with dark hair. Her statement was accompanied by a few nervous chuckles.

The spokeswolf glared at her. "_Anyway_, the point is, I'm not ashamed to admit that we could use a bit of help. In fact we could help each other."

Luke raised an eyebrow in a fair imitation of his former teacher.

"Well, you could teach us how to live without being hunted down and we could give you a reason to live."

Luke froze, his face instantly going blank.

The spokesperson swallowed. "I knew it was a risk bringing that up, but it's clear that you were trying to get yourself killed. You stink of desperation. Now I'm not one to pry, I'm sure you got your reasons. We've all done things we ain't particularly proud of during the first few changes. The point is, we can give you purpose, if you'll extend the same curtesy to us."

"I'm a Nephilim, a Shadowhunter and you are Accord-breakers," Luke whispered. It was a pale argument, considering his now inherent monstrosity, but it was all he had.

Some of the wolves shifted uncomfortably. The spokesperson cleared his throat.

"As I said, we've all got things we're not proud of. We won't hold the whole, the whole…_Nephilim_, thing against you. You are our clan leader now. Chief."

Luke snorted and then it became a laugh. It was a horrible bubbling sound that he knew was a replacement for tears. It was funny, it really was. His dark and sordid past was his Shadowhunter roots. The murdering _werewolves_ would try not to hold it against him. He wondered if Valentine would find it amusing. The laughter died on his lips.

The pack was looking at him with worry in their human and lupine eyes. Luke thought hard about the proposal. He could do some good here, in a way. Hadn't he himself been given the opportunity to make something of himself, to use his potential? Besides, it wasn't as if he had anything else to go back to and deep down, on a fundamental level, Luke wanted to live.

He looked at the knife he still held in his hand. He carefully wiped the blade clean on his tattered clothing. He kissed the hilt once before he slid it back into its sheath. He knew that would be the last time he would ever do that. It was no longer a tie to his past, but a symbol of his future. It was a future that he had carved out in blood and pain and it was his alone. He turned to his pack. He was a leader now.

(-)

The End


End file.
